Scars
by Traveler's Chick
Summary: A new scientist arrives in Atlantis. Ronon is intrigued by her and devises a plan to get to know her, but the brilliant young woman is even less trusting than the stoic Satedan. Both her physical and emotional scars prevent her from falling for him
1. Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Author's Note: This is my first SGA fic so I hope it's decent! This will mostly be a Ronon / Other Character story, and I'm trying to make the new character as emotionally rich and likable as possible. It's rated T for now, but may change. There is a TINY bit of coarse language in this first chapter.

I must admit that I've held off on watching Seasons 4 and 5 of SGA (my friends would kill me if I watched without them), but I want it to fit somewhere between the two. This takes place after Ronon and Dr. Keller's "thing" fizzled out.

I own no part of Stargate Atlantis. The only characters that are my own are Emma Rogers and Lacey Peters and a few minor characters here and there.

"Scheduled incoming wormhole from Earth," a voice over the intercom boomed through the base.

"What's this?" Ronon asked, walking side by side with Sheppard.

"Didn't you read this week's report?" Sheppard asked.

Ronon shot him a look.

"Right," Sheppard muttered, "It's a new group of scientists coming to join the expedition."

"Great," Ronon groaned. They headed to the control room as Col. Carter made her way to the gate room to meet the incoming crowd. "That's all we need now are a dozen more McKays running aro—" He stopped mid-sentence. The entire team had come through and the gate had shut down. It was a smaller group, with only two women. One was in her mid forties, but the other one could not have been much older than twenty-five. She had long dark red hair and fair complexion. She was wide-eyed and looking around at her new surroundings. Ronon had stopped speaking when her eyes met his. She turned her gaze back to Col. Carter.

"I am glad to see all of you here in one piece and I look forward to working with and getting to know all of you," Carter smiled. "Now, Lt. Brown will show you all to your new quarters. We will meet in the conference room at 01:00 hours for our first briefing. Welcome to Atlantis." The lieutenant herded the new group down the hallway to the south section of the city. The woman looked quickly back up at where Ronon and Sheppard were standing one last time, then continued on.

"Ronon? Hey there, buddy," Sheppard began, hitting him on the arm.

"Who's that girl?" he asked, not paying any attention to him.

"If you had read the report, you would know," Sheppard said smugly.

Ronon tore his eyes away from her back and glared at him.

"I mean," Sheppard cleared his throat, "her name is Emma Rogers and she is a linguist, if I remember properly."

"A linguist? She studies languages?" he asked.

"That's normally how it goes, yeah," Sheppard nodded.

"I guess there are worse things to study," Ronon said as he walked away.

"You know we're supposed to be at that briefing, right?" Sheppard called to him.

"I'll try to make it," Ronon said in a monotone voice waving back to him, but not turning around.

"No you won't," Sheppard murmured more to himself than to Ronon. "Hey wait up!" he called, jogging to catch up with him.

She mindlessly followed the lieutenant down the many corridors lit softly by the midmorning sun. They stopped walking. "Dr. Rogers," the lieutenant said as he ran his hand over the door control panel, "these are your quarters."

"Oh my God," she gasped.

"Ma'am?" the lieutenant asked, "Something wrong?"

"No. No no no," she smiled, walking over to the window and opening it, "It's just…I've never lived by the ocean before."

"Let me know if there's anything you need, ma'am," he said, turning around to leave.

"Thank you," she said quietly, deeply breathing in the fresh, salty air.

She sat on her new bed, still in shock about her new home. Just a few days ago, she was camped out in a lab underneath Cheyenne Mountain, checking all of Dr. Jackson's work, and now she was sitting on her bed in the Lost City of Atlantis in a completely different galaxy. The room was spacious; she had both an area for her to sleep with her own bathroom and a study area complete with a desk and chair. _I can't believe I'm here, _she thought to herself. From the second she had stepped through the gate, she had felt that the city offered a calming presence, almost like nothing bad could happen to her in this sea haven. She let out a sigh and listened to the waves as they rhythmically broke against the pier.

After a few minutes, she began to unpack. First she pulled out the hand crocheted blanket her Chilean host mother had made for her, then her cowboy boots, then the pictures of her family, their ranch, her friends, her college sorority, and her dog. She hung up the drawing her three-year-old niece, Allie, had done just before she had left for Atlantis on the wall over her desk next to her diplomas. Her stomach growled as soon as she started transferring her countless books onto the tall bookshelf. She looked at her watch and wandered out of her quarters to find the cafeteria. Every hallway looked the same and she soon felt turned around, but experienced no sense of panic. People surrounded her everywhere she went, around every corner she turned. She soon abandoned the thought of immediately finding the cafeteria and instead chose to embrace her journey of discovery down the countless expansive corridors.

After ten minutes she stopped in her tracks. "Fuck. Circles," she cursed quietly to herself. She heard the voices of two men arguing loudly about something she didn't understand approaching her. As they rounded the corner, she observed that they both wore flags on their left sleeves, just like she did, but neither of them were American like her. One boasted the Canadian flag and the other the flag of the Czech Republic.

"Excuse me," she said politely, "P-promiňte."

They both looked up with surprise from the electronic tablet that occupied their interest.

"Hi," she began awkwardly, "I'm new here. I'm Emma Rogers," she smiled sweetly, wringing her hands, "I was hoping one of you could tell me where the mess is…the cafeteria…the commissary…" she rambled.

The Czech spoke up. "Ah yes, it's just down this hallway, then take your second right," he smiled politely.

"Thank you," she grinned, "I thought I smelled food this way. You know…follow your nose," she laughed nervously.

"I'm sorry, but you speak Czech?" the man asked timidly.

"Yes," she nodded eagerly, "I'm…"

"She's the new linguist," the Canadian said confidently.

"Yes," she answered slowly, frowning slightly, a little unnerved that he knew that so quickly about her.

"Dr. Rodney McKay," he smiled cockily, holding his hand out to hers to shake.

"Emma," she smiled, shaking his hand, "…I already said that though didn't I? And you are…?" she asked, directing her attention to the Czech.

"Radek Zelenka," he nodded, shaking her hand.

"Je mi potěšením, že vás poznávám."

"Your Czech is beautiful," he said, shaking his head with disbelief.

"Thank you," she grinned widely, "Thanks both of you for the directions. Now, if you'll excuse me, I could eat a horse. I hope to see you later," she waved as she headed down the hallway, a bounce in her step.

"I like her," Zelenka said as soon as she was several yards away from her.

"Absolutely," McKay agreed as they both watched her disappear, "What were we talking about?" he asked quickly.

"I don't remember," Zelenka said, furrowing his brow as they continued on their way in the opposite direction.

"Are you hungry?" McKay asked.

"I could eat," Zelenka reasoned.

"You want to go join her?"

They looked at each other. "Emma!" they both called in unison, trotting to catch up with her.

(I don't speak Czech! That's all Google Translate so I apologize if it's wrong!)

Thanks! Reviews would be much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

So formatting is still hard for me so I'm hoping this one looks a little better than the last one! Eek! Hope you enjoy!

"I'm really relieved you both joined me," she confessed as the three of them sat down at a table together. "I kind of felt like I was back in high school again and didn't know who to sit with," she smiled sheepishly.

"Well, we always like to get to know the new recruits," McKay said shortly, "And by recruits, I mean scientists or other scholars. Not air force. Or marines. I don't care much for military," he babbled, frowning. "Sheppard, Ronon," he nodded to two men she had noticed when she stepped through the Stargate. One of the men was about six feet tall with dark, rumpled hair and blue eyes. She could tell he was clearly military from the blue uniform he wore. The other man was taller still with darker skin, long dreadlocks, deep-set hazel eyes and wore a scowl on his bearded face. He looked to be several years younger than the other man. He was also dressed unlike anyone else she had seen, confusing her as to his exact role on base. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but he made her uneasy. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Hi Rodney," the first man chirped, raising his chin to him.

"McKay," the other one said in a low voice that seemed to reverberate in Emma's chest.

They continued on their way and Emma followed them curiously with her eyes for a few moments longer. She quickly tore her gaze away when the one called Ronon turned around.

"Peanut butter and jelly?" she heard Zelenka ask.

"Yeah," she blushed, looking down at the sandwich in her hands, "I have an unhealthy addiction to peanut butter," she explained, "If I could live off one food for the rest of my life, peanut butter's my fix."

"But a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" McKay asked, "Honestly, how old are you?" he only half teased.

"Twenty four," she answered quickly, "No twenty five," she laughed, correcting herself and pointing in the air, "My birthday was about a week ago. Some birthday present, huh?" she scoffed, looking around at her unbelievable surroundings.

"I wish I still could afford to forget how old I am," Zelenka muttered to himself.

"I wish I was young enough to afford to eat whatever I wanted," McKay mused, looking down incredulously at Emma's tray, filled to the brim with food.

"You do," Zelenka supplied simply, looking at McKay who opened his mouth to argue.

"Oh," she shrugged self-consciously, cutting him off, "I'm a runner," she stated.

Both men stopped mid-chew.

She furrowed her brow, confused at their change in demeanor. "As in I run…" she said slowly, pulling her arms to her side and moving them back and forth like she was pretending to jog, "for exercise," she continued.

"Oh of course," Zelenka spat out quickly.

"That certainly does uh burn a lot of calories," McKay affirmed. "So I hear you know my friend Dr. Jackson?" he mentioned, changing the subject.

"Yes," she nodded happily, eyebrows raised, "I was his fact checker more than anything, but we did do a few joint projects together. He's an amazing guy, an amazing linguist," she said, shaking her head, "I was super fortunate to have him as my first boss out of grad school. I knew he and Colonel Carter were close, that may or may not be how I got this job," she muttered under her breath, "but…I was unaware you two were friends," she said, cocking her head.

"Yes, well, Dr. Jackson and I – Danny and I," McKay began, then rattled off some excuse as to why Dr. Jackson perhaps hadn't mentioned him. But Emma was distracted; Zelenka was looking at her and shaking his head, rolling his eyes. Emma stifled a laugh into her glass of water.

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><p>With Zelenka and McKay at her side, she cautiously made her way into the briefing room. It was too small for the amount of people it needed to accommodate who were all seated around the large conference table, elbows touching. Multiple languages bounced off the walls. Some were dressed in military gear, others were just civilian scientists. She guessed that the few others, not dressed in any one specific fashion were, for lack of another word, aliens. There weren't three seats next to each other, so she found a seat with the other newcomers. Like a panther, the man with the dreadlocks slinked into the room along with his friend, the man with messy brown hair, and took a seat next to McKay and a regal looking woman with shoulder length brown hair.<p>

Col. Carter stood up from the front of the room to speak. The room fell silent. "Good afternoon. You all have been called here to meet our new team of scientists," she began, "The reason I feel you should know them is because many of them will be assigned to your SG teams." Those who weren't new to Atlantis started to survey those who were. "Each one of them will introduce themselves, their specialties and anything else they feel you should know."

Each new scientist introduced him or herself and it was finally Emma's turn. She felt the familiar stomach pangs of public speaking nerves as she stood up. "Hello," she smiled kindly, "I'm Emma Rogers," she began looking around the room, "Doctor…Emma Rogers," she repeated, still unfamiliar with her new title, "I am originally from outside of Austin, Texas…if that means anything to you," she caught a glimpse of the man named Ronon, "I got my undergraduate degree in Modern Languages from Middlebury College in Vermont, then took a gap year in Santiago, Chile where I taught English, then received my PhD in Linguistics a few months ago from Oxford University. Since then, I have been doing translating and decoding work under Dr. Daniel Jackson's supervision at Stargate Command. I speak 17 modern languages fluently and am conversational in two others. I am well versed in Ancient and some of its various derivatives, and in written Wraith, which I have studied most as of late with Dr. Jackson," she stated confidently, "What else?" she whispered to herself, feeling nervous again, "I'm…a Leo, my favorite food is peanut butter," she caught Zelenka's eye, who smiled back at her, "and I enjoy horseback riding," she added at the end, laughing.

Many of the others in the room laughed too. She felt the knot in her stomach ease up. Col. Carter spoke up again. "Dr. Rogers will not be assigned to any team for the time being and will be conducting research on the Wraith database in the languages lab." Emma smiled and sat back down, then looked back at her manila folder. "Oh," Carter uttered again. Emma looked up at her again, not sure what else she was going to say. "I believe that Dr. Rogers is also the youngest member of our expedition now," she smirked genially. Emma blushed.

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><p>The meeting adjourned with Carter's final words. "Now, you all have today off to get settled into your quarters and to explore the city if you so desire, but I expect to see you all working hard tomorrow. Please don't hesitate to come to me with any questions or problems," she finished. She hung back in her seat, chatting with a few scientists, old and new, while everyone else slowly filtered out. Emma caught up with McKay and Zelenka and hoped they didn't mind that she was bothering them again. "I'm sorry, but where's the gym?" she asked, "I was thinking of going for a run."<p>

"Does it look like McKay knows where the gym is?" the handsome military man with the messy hair interjected. "Doctor," he nodded to her.

She winced. "Oh please, it's Emma," she spat out quickly, "I'm not used to the title yet." She turned her head as she caught the eye of a young marine in her peripheral vision looking her up and down as he exited the room. She felt her stomach plummet.

"Why not?" he asked. She turned her attention back to him. "You earned it," he said smoothly.

McKay rolled his eyes. "Emma, this is Captain Kirk, Captain Kirk, Emma," he gestured loosely.

Emma laughed at the reference and took his outstretched hand. He was innocent enough.

"Colonel John Sheppard," he smiled.

"It's nice to meet you," she smiled back. "So…the gym?" she pressed on.

"It's in the east wing of the city," he explained, "Find a transporter and all of the maps are oriented to the north. Touch the east quadrant and you should be able to find it from there," he finished.

"Thanks. I'd better get going, then," she said, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder, "It'll take me at least an hour to find," she joked, touching McKay's arm as she walked past them all. "See you later," she waved with a smile, leaving the room. By now, she knew how to get to her quarters without getting lost and she headed down the second corridor she passed.

"Captain Kirk?" Sheppard asked in a raised voice, "I was just being friendly!" he said innocently.

"I'm sorry but your friendly and flirting are very hard to distinguish from one another," McKay quickly said defensively.

"That is what makes it so effective," Teyla interrupted in a low voice with a smirk as she and Ronon passed by them.

Sheppard shrugged looking satisfied and followed them.

"Oh please," McKay groaned to himself, rolling his eyes again.

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><p>She ran her hand over the control crystals and her door slid open. The room smelled like salt water and it made her smile. With a sigh, she realized that before she could do anything else, she had to finish unpacking. She began with putting the remainder of her books in her bookshelf. A note on yellow parchment fluttered to the ground with her name on the front. It was in Dr. Jackson's spidery handwriting. Curious, she picked it up and opened it.<p>

_Emma – _

_I want to let you know what a pleasure it was working with you, however briefly, this past summer. If ever you need anything later in your professional career, please don't hesitate to contact me…provided I'm in the galaxy (or even the Pegasus galaxy). You are the brightest young woman I know and you will go much further than I have in your promising future. I'm incredibly happy that you have taken this opportunity that has been presented to you in Atlantis as I always wished I could have gone. Know that nothing like this will be available for you again, so enjoy it! (But work hard too…)  
>Best wishes,<br>Daniel Jackson  
>PS Please tell Sam that I say hello and miss her terribly.<em>

She smiled as she read the note from her mentor. He really was an inspiring, encouraging, and kind man and she owed this entire experience to him. She gently placed the note on her desk. She turned around, hands on her hips and braved her duffel bag. She hung up all of her clothes, unpacked a few novels that she had brought for pleasure reading, and found more photographs, these without frames. After a brief search, she found some tape in her desk and affixed them to the wall above her shelf of framed pictures. She held the last photograph in her hand for a full minute staring down at it, her heart hurting. A newborn Allie was asleep in the arms of her mother in the hospital bed. Slowly, she taped this photo to the wall, too. There was one more picture that she chose to put in her desk drawer instead of on the wall, as it didn't fit with the rest. She turned around, and slid her duffel under her bed, then changed into a set of workout clothes. As she sat on her bed with her laptop creating a new workout playlist, she tied her shoes on and waited for her iPod to update the new songs. She breathed in a puff from her inhaler, stretched on her floor, and then exited her quarters, braving the vast city in search of the gymnasium.

Again, reviews are always appreciated. :)


	3. Chapter 3: Track Star

Ok, so this is a lot shorter than the other chapters, but I have a feeling most of the remaining chapters will be about this length, too. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>She fell in step with the music, the Latin beat pounding loudly in her ears on her fifth lap around the long elliptical track. She concentrated on her breathing, keeping it even and steady, but after three more laps, she got distracted. Colonel Sheppard and his friend Ronon had arrived and were in the middle of the gym lifting weights. Sheppard lay on his back bench pressing a decent amount while Ronon spotted him. Emma observed for a split second then turned her gaze back ahead of her. It was already beginning to dawn on her that, despite its daunting size, this city was actually quite small. She felt like she was at her small liberal arts college again and could only imagine how efficiently the rumor mill worked around here.<p>

After two more laps, she lost focus again. Ronon and Sheppard had moved around. Sheppard was jumping rope while Ronon was stationed at a back machine, facing away from the track. For a lingering moment, she unconsciously stared at the tensing sinew of his broad back and shoulder muscles through his shirt as he lifted the weight and completely forgot where she was and what she was doing, losing the rhythm of her breathing. She felt her chest flush even more as she continued to watch, getting closer to him as she ran faster. All of a sudden, she was in the air, jumping over something that had come into hard contact with her shins.

"_Carajo_! Shit!" she cursed loudly and without thinking as she leaped an accidental hurdle, barely managing to land on her feet. Yanking the earbuds out of her ears and rounding on her heel, she looked down and realized she had tripped over another woman who had been tying her shoe. "Oh my God, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, "I didn't see you there!" She got on her knees to make sure she was all right. She glanced up and noticed everyone staring at her. After she had turned back to the woman, she could still feel the eyes on her back. "I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"Don't worry about it," the young woman replied in a pristine British accent, "I shouldn't have stopped in the middle of the track," she smiled.

"Are you sure you're all right? Oh my God, I feel awful," she apologized, offering her a hand to help her up.

"I'm fine, really," the other woman responded, nodding as she regained her footing. She brushed her hands on the sides of her shorts.

"Ok," Emma uttered weakly, mortified. _Oh my God, _she thought to herself as she picked up her pace again, _Ok act cool. Run two more laps then leave calmly. Everyone will forget about it. _Out of the corner of her eye she could still see Ronon watching her so she fit her earphones back in and ran fast, figuring if _she_ blocked out the world around her, maybe the phenomenon would work in reverse. She finished her three-mile run and quietly slipped out of the gym, hoping no one was still paying attention to her.

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><p>"So what do you think about her?" Sheppard asked Ronon as he picked up a few free weights for bicep curls.<p>

"Who?" Ronon asked, sitting up from working out his abs and crossing his arms over his knees.

"Dr. Rogers," Sheppard answered, gesturing to her with his chin as she disappeared through the archway.

"She's nice. Pretty," he said shortly, wiping the back of his neck. _Weak-kneed._ _Clumsy. _He stood up and massaged his shoulder. _Immature._ "She's young," he stated in a low voice, his back to Sheppard.

"You know ten years ago, she would have been just my type," Sheppard ruminated, "I always liked girls with red hair…more the dark red brunette color, really. What is that, auburn?" he continued, more to himself.

"Ten years ago, she would have been fifteen," Ronon retorted, picking up his towel and ambling out of the gym to the sparring room.

Sheppard set down the free weights and joined him. "What, you do math now?" he asked bitterly.

"It happens," Ronon replied.

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><p>Thanks for reviewing! :)<p> 


	4. Chapter 4: Lunch Gossip

Another! Hope you like the new character.

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><p>She briefly looked around the commissary and realized she knew absolutely no one in sight. Holding her tray, she headed to a mostly deserted table. "Do you mind if I join?" she asked a girl who was sitting by herself, reading a book.<p>

"No, by all means," she replied in a British accent as she looked up, smiling.

Emma set her tray on the table and sat down. "Oh my God, you're the girl I ran into two days ago," she confessed, eyes wide with horror.

"And you're the girl who ran into me," she smirked.

"Again. Soo sorry about that," she grimaced.

"Really. It was fine," she assured her, shaking her head, "It's…easy to get distracted by all the bench pressing marines and air force men," she said smugly, raising an eyebrow.

"But really," Emma laughed, nodding.

"I wasn't actually tying my shoe," she admitted, licking her lips, "I just wanted to catch _his_ eye," she said half smiling, nodding to an air force man behind Emma. She turned around to look and saw him nod back to her new acquaintance, a small smile on his face. "Major Evan Lorne," she exhaled loudly, her piercing blue eyes still on him.

This girl suddenly reminded Emma of one of her sorority sisters – the sensual, seductive brunette who got every man she set her sights on, but rejected any who approached her that didn't spark her interest.

"Anyway," she said lightly as she turned her gaze back to Emma, her intensity fading, "You're new," the girl stated simply, "I'm Lacey," she said, holding out her hand.

"Emma," she replied, shaking her hand.

"So, what brings you to this corner of the galaxy?" she asked, leisurely gesturing around them.

"Linguist," she responded, "There was apparently a pretty significant lack of qualified language experts here," she explained. "You?"

"Botanist. _Xeno_-botanist," she laughed, waggling her eyebrows.

"Nice," she smiled, "So uh what part of England are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Bristol," she replied.

"I thought so! By your accent… I have good friends in Bristol!" Emma exclaimed, opening up.

"You know it?"

"I went to school in the UK, so yeah."

"Where to?" she asked curiously.

"Oxford," she answered shyly.

"Look at you," Lacey teased, the glint back in her eyes, "That's impressive. Especially for a Yank," she added with a thrust of her left shoulder. "So where are you from?"

"The fine state of Texas," Emma answered, layering her accent on thick.

"Excellent," Lacey giggled, "I don't know if I've ever met a real Texan before."

"Yeah, we're a pretty elusive breed," Emma joked. She took a swig of her water and caught Ronon's eye who looked away as soon as their eyes met. She couldn't even be sure that he had been looking her way. He was sitting alone. "What do you know about that man?" she asked Lacey.

"Over in the corner?" she clarified, glancing over her shoulder.

Emma nodded.

"Ah Ronon. Ronon Dex," she said, her voice dropping half an octave, seeming to savor every syllable of his name, "Best shag I've had in a long time," she sighed.

Emma's jaw dropped slightly. "You? And him?" Her eyes danced from Lacey's refined porcelain features and smooth raven locks to Ronon's coarse exterior and brooding demeanor.

"Mmm," she said, swallowing, "Just once. Didn't really mean anything," she shrugged off.

"Where's he from? He looks…Hawaiian or something," Emma conjectured.

"He's from a planet called Sateda," Lacey answered, "It was completely destroyed by the Wraith about ten years ago."

She felt a chill run up her spine. "So then he's not from Earth," she said more to herself than her lunch company.

"No. He's…an interesting fellow. Doesn't talk much. Doesn't have too many friends. Doesn't smile much…" she trailed off momentarily, "The strong silent type," she summarized.

"Seems kinda scary," she laughed nervously.

"He's honestly a good person," she responded, "He just…has a quick temper."

She laughed bitterly to herself. "I know the type." They talked for a bit longer about where they were from and about Atlantis. Fifteen minutes later, she looked at her watch. "Oh fuck! I'd better go back to work…like right now," she grimaced.

"You swear almost as much a Brit," Lacey teased, resting her chin on her fist.

"Ah it's a gift or curse…one of the two. Anyway, it was great to meet you," she smiled, "and uh…not trip over you this time," she added with a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah you too Emma," she murmured distractedly as Major Lorne headed her way. "Hello Major," Lacey said in a low voice that even turned Emma on as she left.

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><p>Please review! :)<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: Unimpressed

This chapter's super short. I apologize! The next ones will be longer, I promise.

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><p>"Ronon," Colonel Carter reprimanded, a large bite of blue Jell-o jiggling midair on her spoon, "I know that you hate doing the paperwork, but everyone has to do it. Recounting the events that took place in a mission report is almost as important as the actual missions. The details of this last one in particular are a little hazy and the IOA," she pronounced the three letters clearly and sardonically, "want full accounts from everyone involved."<p>

He reached for something in the back of his teeth with his tongue and was about to speak when a loud voice erupted from behind him.

"E'coba!"

He turned around in his seat to see Emma with her hands in the air, a hand of playing cards laid out on the table in front of her. Her face was bright and she wore a wide smile.

"E'coba," the other people seated at the table with her kept repeating. All of the patches on their shoulders were the same: a gold horizontal bar flanked on top and bottom by two dark red bars. It looked like they were teasing her, "¿E'coba?"

"Ay esssssssscoba," she exaggerated, "¿Mejor?" she laughed.

"Chilena," one of them joked, hitting her lightly on the arm.

"Española, mexicana, chilena, gringa… No importa. Gano, yo gano," she said haughtily, shaking her shoulders in a small victory dance.

_Did she ever work?_ he wondered.

"Ronon?" Carter said slowly.

"Got distracted," he said accusatorily, turning his head back to her and taking a drink. He leaned back in his seat.

"She's a fun girl. Sweet too," Carter observed over Ronon's shoulder, "I think a lot of the younger marines and airmen have been trying to gather up the courage to talk to her."

"She's young," Ronon countered, nostrils flaring. _Obnoxious. Loud. Immature._

"This is true," Carter nodded, observing the card game that had resumed, "But you can't deny that she's a beautiful girl," she argued, glancing at him, then back to the other table.

He shrugged. "I guess," he muttered, running a hand up and down his bicep.

"She's also one of the most brilliant minds on this expedition."

He tried not to listen too carefully, distracting himself by spinning his gun in his hand under the table and flicking the settings back and forth from stun to kill.

Carter paused, the Jell-o still wiggling dangerously on her spoon. "She doesn't show it, though. It's why Daniel—Dr. Jackson recommended her," she thought out loud. "Most of her introduction at the briefing was a lie…or at least, a grave understatement of her capabilities. She speaks at least ten more languages than she acknowledged."

_Stun._ _Kill._

"Maybe not fluently according to her own standards, but well enough according to anyone else's. And the Ancient and Wraith she knows…she learned all of them in less than three months." She took a breath. Emma discarded a card onto one of the piles in center of the table.

_Kill. Stun._

"She won't admit to it, but she's better versed than anyone in them, especially Wraith, better than Daniel even," she revealed, "He told me so himself."

"Why would she do that?" Ronon asked, his eyes still locked on his blaster.

_Stun. Kill. Stun. Kill._

"Lie? Or…be so modest?" Carter clarified.

Ronon let the gun fall limp in his hand and slightly lifted his head to look at Carter.

"She's young," Carter echoed, finally looking back at him as she ate her Jell-o.

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><p>Read and review, please. :D<p> 


	6. Chapter 6: Tequila and its Aftermath

So I've been watching a few Season 5 episodes and totally did not know that Woolsey completely replaces Carter! Whoops! So first of all, I'm going to say that this is an AU story only in that Carter doesn't leave (I'm just saying this to help reconcile my own OCD about the flow of the timeline). Therefore, let's say this takes place late Season 5. Ronon's fresh off his Keller crush.

Anyway, this chapter finally has some actual Emma – Ronon face-to-face interaction. Hope you all like it!

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><p>"I will not let you spar with my son until he is twenty years old and you are an old man," Teyla laughed as they headed to the sparring room together.<p>

"Teyla, if I start sparring with him when he's younger then he'll be a stronger fighter sooner," Ronon argued good-naturedly.

"If he lives to an older age," Teyla grinned, "Against you, I would not be so sure."

"I'd go easy on him!" he offered.

"I think my instruction shall be sufficient," she said with an air of finality, "Unless you are suggesting that my training is not adequate," she said slyly.

Ronon backed off, smiling crookedly.

They walked in silence for a moment.

"Fifteen," he proposed, "Instead of twenty."

"Seventeen," Teyla compromised, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine. When he's seventeen. Not a day older," he agreed.

Lacey and Emma turned the corner, arm in arm, giggling and talking loudly. It echoed throughout the hall space. Ronon became agitated and let out a quiet growl as he and Teyla were forced closer to the wall when they passed. They were acting like teenage girls. He glowered over his shoulder at the pair; Lacey did the same, looking at Ronon and whispering something to Emma, then kept walking. Again, Ronon felt annoyed. Why couldn't they just keep their inane gossip within their quarters?

"In the meantime," Teyla went on, evidently not having been perturbed by the two young women, "Why don't you stick to sparring with me, instead?" she asked as he and Teyla continued on their way.

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><p>He heard uneven footsteps on his way back to his quarters from a late night in the gym and rounded the corner carefully, ready to pounce if necessary. Most people on the base weren't up this late, and if they were, they were usually relegated to the control room. As he turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of long auburn hair reflecting in the moonlight and immediately knew who it was. She was stumbling and clutching onto the wall for support. He sped up to help her. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently, grabbing both of her arms.<p>

She looked up into his face. "I'm a little drunk," she giggled, falling against the wall, "But shhhh don't tell anyone. Don't tell Col. Carter," she said, her eyes wide, grabbing onto his shoulders, "She'll send me right back to Earth and I don't want that."

"Ok," he laughed quietly, standing up straight.

"I'm Emma," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He took it in his. "Ronon Dex."

"Ronon," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You keep staring at me," she said bluntly.

"I…didn't realize I was doing it," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

"You do," she said boldly, "but I don't mind," she yawned.

"You _are_ a beautiful woman," he reasoned, repeating Colonel Carter's statement from a few days earlier, "Apparently a lot of men here think so," he added. She wouldn't remember any of this the next day, he figured.

"No. No no no," she said, shaking her head, "You can't fool me," she pushed her index finger into his chest, "You're just like those boys I knew in high school. You're just like the football players and their friends who always took advantage of me. You're just like every guy I ever knew ever," she said, her eyes losing focus.

"See that's where you're wrong. I never went to high school and I've never played football," he shrugged, smirking at her.

She stared up at him looking perplexed. "I need to go to bed. Good night," she suddenly stated. She turned around to walk in the direction she had just come from.

"Emma," Ronon began, "where are your quarters?"

"South," she answered, pointing ahead of her.

"That's not south," he told her.

She turned back to him and squinted at her surrounding, thinking hard but looking helpless.

Ronon sighed. "Come on, let's go this way," he suggested, taking her arm and leading her in the right direction.

"Thank you," she smiled, following his lead.

"Why are you up so late?" he asked her.

"I was with my friend Lacey," she answered, slurring her words, "She's great and we drank a LOT of wine."

"Yeah, I can see that," he mumbled, somewhat amused by her state.

"And then she brought out the tequila," she continued, paying no attention to him, "And I'm from Texas!" she cried, "I can't refuse tequila. A lot of shots. A LOT. It was Jose Cuervo…it wasn't even good tequila…" she murmured to herself. "How does the saying go? 'Wine before tequila and it'll feel ya' … no that's not it," she gazed at the ground, "'Tequila before wine and you'll feel fine'? No. 'Wine before liquor never sicker!'" she shouted, proud of herself for remembering correctly, "Oh fuck," she muttered, her face falling as she realized what she had done.

"Most people don't drink like that here," Ronon stated gruffly.

"Are you judging me?" she asked flirtily, looking sideways up at him.

"No," he shook his head, "Just letting you know," he said sternly.

"It's ok," she said brightly, putting a swing in her hips, "I'm 25. I'm still a baby," she declared coquettishly. "STOP."

"What is it?" he asked quickly, reacting to the urgency in her voice.

"This is my room…I think," she said distantly. She paused, studying the door. "Yes. Yes it is," she decided. "Well thank you and good night, Ronon," she said formally. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose. She waved and disappeared into her room. A little stunned and bemused, Ronon turned around to go back to his own quarters.

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><p>Several yards ahead of her, she recognized his slow, arrogant gait, arms swaying at his sides. She picked up her pace to catch up with him. "Buenos días!" she called to the group of Spaniards passing her who waved back. Ronon must have heard her voice, because he stopped and turned around to see who was behind him, putting his hands in his pockets. She skidded to a halt. "Hi," she started.<p>

"Hey," he replied shortly as he furrowed his brow.

"I um…I don't know how to say this but um…I have a very uh _vague_ recollection of running into you last night," she stammered awkwardly, talking with her hands.

He raised an eyebrow. "You did," he smirked.

"Right," she grimaced, "I hope I didn't do anything too inappropriate. I have a tendency to be uh…" she looked to her left, "_over affectionate_ when I'm drunk."

"You were fine," he said, staring down at her.

"Anyway, thank you for helping me get back to my room," she said earnestly, crossing her arms across her chest, "That much I remember. You were really kind."

"It's a big city," he said, "Anyone could get lost in it."

She uncrossed her arms and opened her mouth to speak. She closed it again. "I hope I didn't make a horrible impression on you," she blurted out, nervously crunching her shoulders together and looking beyond him, "I know everyone sees me as the young, maybe immature girl on base and I'm just so embarrassed that I actually proved that right to you last night," she looked into his eyes, "I'm honestly not that girl…" she shook her head, "most of the time," she laughed. "I just…don't have very many friends here yet and was having so much fun with Lacey," she confessed to him.

He wanted to call her out and tell her what she had said was ridiculous. She had more friends on this base than anyone he knew. Everyone adored her and she had only been here three weeks. And nearly every airman, marine, or scientist under thirty five found her attractive. He saw the way they all looked at her. "I understand," he said simply.

She nodded. "Anyway, I figured I'd do damage control," she said, taking a deep steadying breath in, "And also, I just want to introduce myself again…sober," she laughed uncomfortably, "I'm Emma," she smiled holding out her hand to him.

He was taken aback by her dazzling smile and her bright green eyes. Colonel Carter was beyond right – she was stunningly beautiful. With the exception of when he had caught her eye the first moment she had stepped through the gate, he had never truly admitted it to himself before. But he had never really been this close to her before either. "Ronon," he responded in a low voice, shaking her hand.

"Right," she sighed, "Well, I gotta go to work again," she said, gesturing vaguely behind her.

He nodded once a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"Bye," she said awkwardly, biting her lip.

The gears in his mind operated rapidly as he reevaluated his entire opinion of her as she walked away from him. "Emma," he called back to her.

She turned around on the spot, fidgeting with one of her fingers.

"There's a small group going to the mainland in two days," he stated. "You might wanna go. First time off base."

"Yeah," she nodded eagerly, "Definitely. That would be amazing."

"Take care of that headache," he teased with a sly smile as he continued on his way.

"Oh, I will," she laughed.

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><p>Please read and review! Thanks! :)<p> 


	7. Chapter 7: An Incident

I'm not the best at writing out perilous situations or anything like that, so this is my attempt. I wanted to give Emma a chance to really prove herself. Hope you all like it!

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><p>"Dr. Rogers and a medical team to the gate room immediately. Dr. Emma Rogers and a medical team," the intercom called.<p>

A bit surprised, she sprang to her feet from the desk where she was working in the lab and ran to the nearest transporter. She was at the gate room within a minute.

"We need a linguist!" she heard Sheppard shouting in frustration as she arrived.

"What's going on?" she asked urgently. This was the first time she had been paged for what appeared to be an emergency. Sheppard's team was there with a large group of about twenty people, some of whom were injured.

"There was a Wraith attack on a planet we just visited. We took them in as refugees within minutes of arrival. We don't speak their language; we can't understand what they're saying," Sheppard spilled quickly.

There was a man desperately trying to talk to him and tell him something. She directed her attention toward him. He turned to her and immediately started speaking in rapid fire. She listened for a few words and could understand, more or less what he was saying. "Persian derivative," she whispered to herself, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Please slow down, sir," she said in Farsi, modifying the few words she could modify based on his speech. He slowed down and spoke to her, tears coming to his eyes. "Colonel," she said loudly, looking up at him, "there are still about a hundred more villagers in a separate camp on the planet."

"Where?" Sheppard asked urgently.

"Where?" she repeated in Farsi to the man. She listened to his response and relayed it back to Sheppard. "In an encampment in the forest, he says. His pregnant wife and son are there," she said, "How far from the gate is it?" she asked the man, "34 _chebel_…" she said to herself, doing calculations in her head, "Rodney, what's 34 times 78?" she asked.

"Uh…" McKay stalled, thinking.

"2,652," Sheppard answered quickly.

"Then the camp is about half a mile north east of the gate," she said, "He says it's well hidden by tree cover, but thinks that the Wraith can still find them."

"We have to go back," Ronon stated.

"Colonel Carter," Sheppard said, turning to her, "How many people can the Daedalus take to our Alpha site?" he asked.

"It can take over a hundred for a short period of time," she replied, "Colonel, what are you suggesting?" she asked warily.

"Send it to this planet and tell it to beam up all of the villagers," he instructed, "We left the jumper cloaked on the other side so we'll fly to the encampment and the Daedalus can lock onto the life signs surrounding our radio signals."

"Is there a Wraith hive ship in orbit over the planet?" she asked, "We can't engage in battle, Colonel," she said grimly. "You've been in this kind of situation before," she reminded him.

Emma noticed Sheppard's eyes dart quickly over to Ronon, then back to Carter.

"Most likely yes," he answered, "But they'll only have to be there long enough to beam the people out. And then they'll jump into hyperspace and be out of there before the Wraith even notice."

"The Daedalus could undergo pretty serious damage if we decide to do this," she argued, "The shields can only hold for so long, especially if there's more than one hive ship in the area."

"Then we'll just have to time this right," he countered, "The Daedalus will have to arrive at the planet right when we get to the encampment by jumper. Beam all unnecessary personnel down here," he suggested.

"Actually, the Daedalus will take longer to get there than we will," McKay interjected, "It's about a twenty minute distance. Normally, I'd say that's pretty close to us, but given the urgency of the situation…"

"The man said it was well hidden by tree cover," Sheppard reiterated, pointing at the man standing next to Emma who was desperately trying to understand what was happening, "Maybe it'll take the Wraith a while to find them," he proposed.

Carter opened her mouth to speak.

"Colonel, there are a hundred innocent people about to lose their lives if we don't act now," he cried.

"Ok, go," Colonel Carter agreed after a quick second of thought, "Clear the gate room," she yelled, then began talking into her earpiece.

"We have to leave this room!" Emma translated, indicating the refugees to follow her, "They're going back to save them," she said to the man, putting her arm across his back. The gate activated and she turned back to look at the team as they stepped through it again; Ronon was looking back at her. They made eye contact for a split second, then he turned his head forward and disappeared into the undulating blue event horizon.

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><p>"Incoming wormhole. Receiving McKay's IDC code," the technician said.<p>

"Lower the shield," Colonel Carter ordered.

The puddle jumper sped through the gate. "Colonel," Sheppard began, "Send that man, you know which one I'm talking about, to the gate room. We'll park and be there in a second."

"Dr. Rogers," she said on her radio.

"Yes?" Emma replied.

"Can you and that man, Mahtab, come to the gate room?" she asked.

"Absolutely," she replied.

Emma walked briskly with Mahtab to the gate room. Sheppard and his team were standing there, as were a small boy and a pregnant woman. He ran to them, tears leaking from his eyes, and engulfed them both in a strong embrace. Emma stopped halfway down the stairs and folded her arms across her chest, a smile across her face as she watched the reunion.

"We have confirmation from the Daedalus that the rest of the villagers were transported safely to our Alpha site," Colonel Carter said.

Mahtab tore himself from his family and thanked all of Sheppard's team, taking their hands in his and embracing them. He turned around to look at Emma and ran to her, taking her by the hand and introducing her to his family. "Oh," she squeaked in surprise, following him.

"The others did not understand me," he was saying, "They spoke a language very different from ours. And then we stepped through the ring and came here and this angel arrived, speaking a tongue not very different from our own. She told the others where you were so they could go back. You would not be here without her," he explained.

"Good work, Rogers," Sheppard said, patting her on the back as he and his team exited the room. Teyla nodded to her; meanwhile McKay hounded Sheppard on his rapid mental math skills. Ronon was last to leave and he smiled his mischievous, crooked smile back at her without a word. She felt a small stirring in her stomach.

She turned her attention back to Mahtab's family. "I'm happy you all are safe," she said in Farsi, smiling.

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><p>Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed! You're super great! :D<p> 


	8. Chapter 8: Field Trip

Here's another! The story should start picking up from here. :)

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><p>"I'm really excited to get off base," Lacey said as she bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet. Emma stood next to her in the vast jumper bay, waiting for the pilot to arrive and take the small group to the mainland. There were two other scientists and a captain waiting with them. "You know, as a botanist, I really expected to spend less time in a lab and more time in the field," she ruminated.<p>

"Me too," Emma agreed, "I really need to see some grass…or dirt…or something."

The pilot walked through the doors with Ronon at his side. Emma felt her stomach leap a little. When he had mentioned this to her, she hadn't been sure if he was going to be going too. They made brief eye contact, but other than that, he seemed to ignore her. Her stomach dropped a little. He silently strode into the jumper behind the pilot and the rest followed, settling into their seats in the back.

"Dr. Peters," the pilot said as he twisted in his seat to look back at her, holding his finger to his earpiece, "You're being paged to the botany lab."

"What?" Lacey asked, disappointment evident on her face.

"There's apparently a situation in the botany lab and they require your assistance," he told her.

"Oh bloody hell," she sighed, standing up and leaving the jumper. "I bet it's that Venus flytrap thing that SGA3 brought back again. Don't have too much fun without me, Em!" she called back, dragging her feet.

Emma smiled and waved. The bay doors opened, the pilot closed the door of the jumper and they took off.

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><p>About an hour and a half later, they had arrived. Ducking her head as she stood up, she excitedly stepped out onto land and took a deep breath of fresh, perfumed air and began to cough. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her inhaler and used it. Her asthma was so easily provoked. The major began speaking. "Ok, doctors Nelson and Cabelas, you're with Captain Simpson and myself," he instructed, "We will be visiting the village and taking blood samples. Ronon and Dr. Rogers, you're welcome to come with us or you can go off on your own. We would stress that you stick together. Dr. Rogers, you've never been here before and are unarmed so…"<p>

"So you figured I needed a big strong man to protect me?" she asked in a southern belle accent.

"No—it's just—" he stammered.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled, striding past him as she gazed at her new surroundings, "I was just messing with you. I understand."

The two groups split up and Emma followed Ronon.

"What was that thing you just breathed in?" he asked, looking ahead, as they began walking up a hill covered in tall grasses and small marigolds.

"Oh, that was my inhaler," she replied, pulling it out of her pocket, "I have asthma…it's a disease…I go into debilitating coughing fits if I don't take my medicine like that," she explained.

He nodded.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Nowhere," he responded.

"Right," she nodded slowly, "So…it doesn't matter if there's somewhere specific I'd like to go?" she shrugged.

"Is there somewhere specific you'd like to go?" he asked.

"No," she smirked.

"Didn't think so," he said shortly.

They walked in silence for a good five minutes before either one of them spoke, but Emma was fine with that. She was taking in everything around her and enjoying the feel of the occasional quiet breeze on her face. It looked to be autumn here. The air smelled warm to her. Indian Summer, maybe. The prairie grass was not quite dead but a few of the leaves on the distant trees were yellow. The sun cast a gentle, golden light on everything it touched.

"What's with the boots?" Ronon finally asked, breaking the silence.

"They're cowboy boots," she smiled proudly with a hand on her hip, stopping to show them off.

He looked her up and down. "Meaning?"

"I'm from Texas," she answered simply.

He said nothing, but looked down at her.

"Right," she said to herself, "I keep forgetting. Sorry. I'm from Texas, which is a state in the southwest of the United States of America," she laid her accent on thick for the last part, "that is known for well…for a lot of things," she started. "Back when the west was conquered, cowboys roamed the plains. They were…for lack of a better word…total badasses who rode horses and roped and herded cattle. Stories go that they would get into trouble and bar fights and such. I don't actually know what's myth and what's not, but some people in my state still do a lot of those things," she told him. "I grew up working on a ranch, so ever since I can remember I've had a sturdy pair of cowboy boots on my feet."

"Is that why you talk different than the others?" he asked.

"Because I'm from Texas?" she clarified, "I suppose," she answered slowly, narrowing her eyes. "I'm actually really surprised you noticed. Hardly anyone ever mentions my accent. I've beat it into submission," she joked.

"It's just a few words you say," he said, still looking off to the horizon.

"Like what?" she asked, her eyes locked on his strong profile, intrigued that he had noticed this much about her.

"'Been,'" he answered, "and sometimes 'I' and you say 'y'all'."

"Oh guilty as charged," she laughed, looking away, "'Y'all' is always the dead give away."

"And your name," he said, turning his face to look at her.

"How do I say my name?" she asked, her voice more seductive than she had expected it to be. She cleared her throat.

"'Emma,'" he imitated with a roguish smirk.

She felt her stomach leap again and paused, studying at him as he looked back at her. "You know," she began, "sometimes when you look at me, I feel like you're undressing me with your eyes," she finished, only half joking.

He stopped and so did she. "Is that a bad thing?" he retorted.

A chill ran up her spine. She surveyed him from bottom to top and stared into his eyes. "I haven't decided yet," she replied. She started walking again and he followed. "Where are you from?" she asked in turn.

"A planet called Sateda," he said.

"What's it like?" she asked innocently.

"It was beautiful," he answered, "It was bright, full of people …but simple." He paused. She suddenly had remembered what Lacey had told her a few weeks ago about his home planet and felt her heart plummet before he said anything. She closed her eyes, knowing what was coming next. "It was completely destroyed by the Wraith almost ten years ago."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "How—how did you manage to escape?" she asked timidly.

"I didn't," he responded. He didn't speak for a while after that.

"I'm sorry I asked," she finally blurted out, stopping.

He too stopped and looked down at her. He was massive, truly an imposing man, and she suddenly had the desire to run in the opposite direction. "It's all right. Really. Don't worry about it," he said, touching her arm. She flinched and jerked her arm away. He looked confused.

"Sorry," she spat out quickly.

"You were impressive yesterday," he said, changing the subject and beginning to walk again, "with Mahtab and the rest of his people." He looked over at her. "A hundred people would have died if you hadn't been there."

"Thanks," she smiled, looking up at him.

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><p>Night fell and they were finally making their way back to the jumper.<p>

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"You apologize a lot," Ronon interrupted.

"Sorry, I didn't realize it," she said quickly, then closed her eyes and blushed, realizing she had done it again. _Old habits die hard_, she thought.

He smiled a small smile. "What were you gonna say?" he prompted.

"I was going to say that I feel like I've been talking all about myself and not letting you get the chance to speak."

"I'm not exactly a man of many words," he professed, glancing at her.

"Right," she nodded, "I'd normally ask you what your favorite movie or your favorite song or something is right about now," she shrugged, "but… I have a feeling that won't get us very far," she anticipated.

"Probably not," he agreed. "Why did you decide to come here?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself. The air was turning cold and she had been stupid not to bring a sweater. "It's a long story," she breathed, staring up at the two waxing moons in the night sky, suddenly feeling as mysterious as Ronon.

Neither one spoke after that. A few minutes later, she felt something warm over her shoulders. "Take this," Ronon said, laying his heavy coat over her shoulders. It was so long, it almost dragged on the ground when she wore it.

"No, I really don't—" she began.

"I'll be fine," he said, cutting her off.

She pulled it closer and could feel her cheeks getting red. The coat smelled like good quality leather and for the first time in a month, she suddenly felt like she was back at home, polishing a pair of boots or a saddle. She wondered if this was his way of trying to make a move. He was a difficult man to read. They made it back to the jumper and everyone was staring at them.

"You're one hour overdue!" the major scolded.

"And?" Ronon asked, not looking at him.

"We thought something had happened to you! I sent Captain Simpson out looking for you! Where was your radio?" he asked sternly.

"Must have left it behind," Ronon answered snarkily, "My mistake."

The major glared at him and Ronon glared back. They all loaded into the puddle jumper, but Ronon didn't sit shotgun like he did on the way over, most likely because of his altercation with the major, Emma assumed. Instead, he sat in the back next to her. While they waited for the captain to return, the other scientists were still staring, perhaps intimidated by his stature and presence. Emma scrunched her mouth and looked up at the ceiling, avoiding their eyes, and flipped his coat around to use it like a blanket. Out of breath, the young captain arrived, purposefully looked away from Ronon, and headed to the front compartment. Steadily, and with next to no turbulence, the jumper ascended into the air to begin its hour and a half long journey back to Atlantis. Before Emma realized it, she had fallen asleep.

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><p>Again, thank you everyone who's reading and reviewing. It makes me really happy!<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: A Coat and a Plan

She woke up in a foggy daze to a loud announcement on the intercom. "Ronon to the gate room immediately. Repeat. Ronon Dex to the gate room."

She felt someone beside her stirring. She sat up and realized with a rather large amount of embarrassment that she had fallen asleep on Ronon's shoulder. Without a word, he bounded out of his seat to leave, unholstering his gun and running at a quick pace. All of the other passengers sat still with astonishment. Emma looked around the jumper, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and realized that his coat was still on her, keeping her warm. In her mind, she replayed the last few seconds she remembered. Apparently, they had just landed. She hadn't felt the aircraft touch down, but then again the inertial dampeners on the jumper were incredible. The announcement had pulled her out of her sleep. But when she had woken up, she knew there was something else that hadn't registered at first. Ronon's arm had been wrapped around her waist. She stood up holding the coat in her arms and walked back to her quarters, a bit confused and very conflicted.

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><p>She sat on her bed staring at her wall, deep in thought, Ronon's coat still in her arms. <em>You're overanalyzing this, <em>she told herself. _It's just a jacket. Just a small touch. It's nothing. Nothing is happening. _Old feelings in the pit of her stomach reared their ugly heads. Distrust. Panic. Fear. _Move on. Move forward. It's nothing. _"I didn't come here looking for any kind of romantic whatever," she groaned out loud, "I came here to escape all that." _Move on. Move forward. Be strong. It was nothing._

She heard something crinkle from within the coat. Brow furrowed, she reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a piece of paper folded in quarters. It had been folded and unfolded so many times, it was in danger of ripping into four pieces. She gingerly opened the blood and water stained piece of paper and discovered that it was a black and white photograph. Her breath caught in her lungs. Her heart did a somersault.

The picture was of a much younger Ronon and he was smiling, maybe even laughing. In the short time she had known him, she had never seen such a large grin on his face. But Ronon wasn't alone – in the picture, he held a woman in his arms, her back touching his chest. She was about a head shorter than he was and had long light hair that curled slightly down her chest. Emma couldn't be sure, but it looked like she was wearing some type of light-colored uniform. Her facial features were small, and her smile was wide and gorgeous. She too was laughing. Emma brought the photo closer to her face to see better. Both Ronon and the woman wore rings on their ring fingers. Hers boasted a small precious stone – obviously an engagement ring. Emma carefully folded the photograph again, and put it back where she had found it. She laid the coat over her desk chair and stared at it for moment.

She shook her head, pulling herself from her thoughts. She undressed and wrapped a towel around her body, then took her hair out of its braid. Her long dark red locks cascaded over her slightly sunburned shoulders. She turned the shower on and stepped under the small warm waterfall, feeling even more confused than she had when she entered her room.

* * *

><p>He was sitting with his team in the commissary, talking. She figured she might find him here, but she was hoping he would be alone. Somewhat intimidated by the whole group, she walked up to all of them and interrupted.<p>

"Hi," she said to all of them, "Ronon, I believe this is yours," she said, holding out his coat for him to take.

"Thanks," he said, standing up and taking it from her.

"No thank you," she laughed nervously, "Sorry to interrupt everybody," she said, turning around to leave, "Bye."

"Bye," they all said back to her as she scampered off.

"I still think she's cute," Sheppard shrugged innocently.

Ronon shot him a glare.

"What?" he asked defensively.

Teyla cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at Ronon.

"We went to the mainland and I had to stay with her," he explained, "She wasn't dressed right and she got cold. I gave her my coat."

"Did she ask for it?" McKay asked.

"No," he replied gruffly.

"I also heard that you returned to the jumper an hour late," Teyla said, "You did not have your radio with you?" she prodded.

"No," he repeated.

"See, the Ronon I know wouldn't do that," Sheppard observed, "The Ronon I know would have turned it off though."

"Perhaps you wanted to spend more time with her," Teyla suggested.

No one spoke.

"Wait wait wait," McKay interjected finally, "Dr. Nielsen—"

"Nelson" Sheppard corrected.

"Yeah whatever. The new guy. He was talking about his trip to the mainland. I tried to tune it out but he does have a rather loud voice, doesn't he? Anyway, he mentioned that the new girl fell asleep on the way back, on the … how did he describe you … on the shoulder of the terrifying tall guy with the long hair. I didn't know he was talking about you!"

"Terrifying tall guy with the long hair? Seriously, Rodney, who else would that be?"

Sheppard asked with an air of incredulity. "You like her," Sheppard teased, directing his attention back to Ronon.

"All right fine," Ronon admitted nonchalantly, biting his thumbnail, "Maybe."

They all stared at him expectantly.

"Fine. Yes," he conceded through gritted teeth, pulling his thumb out from his mouth and making a fist.

"I thought you found her…annoying," Teyla questioned.

"'Young' was the exact word he used, I believe," Sheppard interjected.

"Which in Ronon speak…what would that be your…your _Dexicon_? Means what?"

"Clever, Rodney," Sheppard nodded, his mouth full, "It means annoying," he confirmed.

"Things changed," Ronon said, now biting the inside of his cheek and crossing his arms, "I found out more about her. It's just…" he stopped.

"Yes?" McKay pressed on.

"He doesn't know how to get to know her," Sheppard offered, nodding slowly.

Ronon stared at him, which they all took as an affirmation.

"Well I got nothing," McKay said immediately.

"You could…ask her—no that won't work. Or you could see if she wants to—no not that either," Sheppard stumbled, staring at the table.

"Ask her to teach you a language," Teyla suggested.

"That's actually a brilliant idea," McKay agreed, wagging a finger in her direction.

"I can't do that," Ronon argued.

"Why not?" Sheppard asked, "Give me one reason."

"Aside from the fact that you can't sit still for longer than twenty minutes," McKay tacked on disparagingly.

Ronon glowered at McKay, then spoke. "Why would _I _need to learn a language from Earth?" he asked, "And I'm not learning Wraith," he added quickly, jabbing his index finger onto the table.

"The why does not matter," Teyla calmly said.

"But really," McKay began, "If she's secretly a geek on the inside, she'll be too excited about teaching you anything to care why you want to learn it."

"_You're_ not like that," Sheppard pointed out.

"Yes well that's because I'm not a geek," McKay retorted.

Everyone stared back at him.

"What?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth from each of their faces.

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><p>Once again, thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing! It makes my day!<p> 


	10. Chapter 10: Girls Who Wear Glasses

Sorry for the delay! I normally update more quickly. This one's pretty short too - I'm exhausted! :/ (I'll try to get another chapter up early tomorrow.)

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><p>"Come in," she called quietly, looking up from her book to the doorway, "Ronon," she said with surprise, smiling.<p>

"It's late," he stated in his low, rough voice, walking over to her desk.

"I know," she smiled serenely, blinking slowly, "I just…I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd catch up on some research."

He nodded.

"What's your excuse?" she asked, closing her book.

"Don't have one," he replied shortly.

She squinted and cocked her head to one side.

He looked back at her, studying her face. "Have you…um have you always had those?" he asked, gesturing to her face.

"What? My glasses?" she questioned, taking them off and looking at the dark plastic frames. "Yes, I mean…no. During the day I wear my contacts and then put these on when I take them out," she laughed nervously, slipping them back on.

"Contacts?" he repeated, his severe brow furrowed.

"Yes. Oh yes," she muttered, reminded that she wasn't talking to someone from her own planet, "Well they're small corrective lenses that you can put directly onto your eye. They work just like glasses…" she stopped herself, "Anyway, I won't bore you with all of that. What brings you here?" she inquired, trying to change the subject.

"I was thinking…" he said slowly, "You communicate with everyone on this base without any problems. I was just thinking…"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you saying that you want me to teach you another language?" she filled in for him, excitement bubbling up in her.

"Yeah," he shrugged, crossing his arms.

"Well…which one?" she asked.

"I don't know. I was kinda hoping you could tell me," he said, taking a seat on her bed across the desk from her.

"Well on Earth," she began, putting her pen down, "each language has its own…set of connotations that go along with it. English, for example, is seen as a language of power, education, and conquest."

He settled back in his seat to listen.

"French," she continued, pointing to France on her small desk globe, "is seen by many as romantic, but also kind of snobby. Italian is rather beautiful and has a very specific rhythm to it. Russian and many of its derivatives are seen as harsh languages, although I find that they have a certain beauty to them as well. Chinese is perceived as a very useful language, at least right now. Ger—"

"What's the language you speak to the people who wear the red and yellow flags?" he interrupted.

She looked up at him. "The horizontal gold and red stripes? That one?" she asked.

He nodded, scratching his neck.

"Oh, they're from Spain," she smiled, sitting back in her desk chair, "That's Spanish."

"That one, then," he said decisively.

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "Can I ask why that one?" she finally asked.

"I like the way it sounds," he responded, shaking his head.

She nodded. "Ok," she breathed, reaching for her day planner, "Now, have you ever learned another language?" she asked him.

"No," he answered, "I mean, I used to know key phrases in a few languages from other planets. Mostly for trade."

"It is something that is particularly hard for adults to do, especially for the first time," she started slowly, looking him in the eyes, "and involves a lot of practice, so we'll have to meet almost four or five times a week…provided you're on base. Is that…okay with you? I realize it's quite a bit of a time commitment."

He nodded. "I can cut down on my sparring matches," he suggested, smiling a little.

"Wow, okay," she said, somewhat taken aback, "How does…seven at night sound to you? I know it's a little late but—"

"Perfect," he replied.

She smiled at him, studying his features. "I must say I'm –"

"Surprised?" he offered.

"No," she calmly contradicted and smiled, "flattered. I'm very flattered you would come to me."

He got up to leave without another word. When he got to the doorframe, he turned around and spoke. "I like the glasses on you," he smirked.

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

"See you tomorrow at seven," he said, and then left.

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><p>Please read and review! :) Thanks, everyone!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11: First Lesson

Another supah short one!

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><p>At exactly seven, there was a knock at her door. She pulled herself away from her bookshelf, scouring each level for her Spanish books and dictionaries, and answered. "<em>Hola<em>," she smiled, indicating he should come in.

"_Hola_," he repeated uncertainly, following her across the room.

She sat down in her desk chair and he sat in the chair next to hers on the same side of the desk with her. She folded her hands in her lap and bit her lip. "Um how are you?" she asked politely as he got settled into his seat.

"Good," he nodded.

"Ok, so before we start, I just want to let you know a few things," she started, "First of all, Spanish is quite different from English, phonetically speaking," she explained immediately, "There are fewer sounds in Spanish and it's generally just a softer language."

He nodded again.

"That being said, you have to be willing to emulate the accent. A lot of teachers won't correct their students on pronunciation because it seems more personal than grammar or other components of language. But the accent is just as important, so I _will_ correct you if necessary. Believe me, you sound like more of an idiot not doing the accent, than pretending to do it," she reasoned. "Spanish also uses the same alphabet as English, unlike Chinese or Greek or Arabic or something like that, so that makes our lives a hell of a lot easier. Spanish syntax—"

"What's that?" he interrupted.

"Oh. Sentence structure. Word order. Sorry."

He flashed a look at her for her unnecessary apology.

She winced. "Anyway," she smiled at him (he smiled back), "Spanish syntax is also very similar to English. So that makes learning it as a second language a bit easier, too."

He nodded in silence once more.

"Before we go into the actual language…do you mind if I give you a brief history of it?" she asked timidly.

"You're the teacher," he replied, shrugging.

She reached for her globe across the desk and spun around. "Spanish evolved from Latin," she began, pointing to Italy. He sat back and listened in unreadable silence as she explained how the Moors in Spanish infused it with an Arabic influence, and how Spanish spread as a language of conquest to the new world. "Right," she coughed, realizing that he was giving her his complete and undivided attention and therefore staring directly at her, "Because of that, Spanish is spoken natively in something like twenty-one different countries across the world so…obviously there's a bit of variation from country to country."

"Twenty-one countries?" he repeated.

"Uh huh," she nodded.

He remained silent.

"Chapter one?" she laughed nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I think we'll start like this and slowly move away from the book and into more practical uses of the language if you choose to continue," she suggested.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, sitting up straighter and looking at the page she had opened the book to. They began with basic greetings and sentences, then moved on to telling the time, which finally prompted her to look down at her watch. "Oh shit," she exclaimed.

"What is it?" he asked, looking up at her from the page.

"Speaking of which… I'm so sorry. It's already nine," she said quickly, a little embarrassed, "I didn't mean to keep you for so long," she winced.

"How did you learn Spanish?" he immediately asked her, not addressing her concern.

"Oh," she uttered, taken aback, "I um, well, Texas shares a border with Mexico," she explained, "My nanny when I was younger was a Mexican immigrant named Marisol. She was wonderful, kind of a second mother to me; she actually still lives with my parents," she smiled. "She spoke to me in Spanish from the time I was a baby, so I grew up bilingual. So did my sister," she added, "I'm teaching you Mexican Spanish, by the way," she informed him, "To me, it's the most standard accent and it's what I grew up with."

"So you speak Mexican Spanish?" he asked.

"I can," she shrugged, "But I spent a year in Chile, so I naturally tend to speak with a Chilean accent." She paused. "It sounds really funny though," she smiled to herself, looking down.

"Say something," he ordered bluntly.

"Um, ok," she laughed nervously, thinking. "Well…" she finally said, "there's this card game that I play with the Spaniards. It's called 'Escoba,'" she enunciated slowly, "It means 'broom.' But I say 'e'coba,'" she blushed, "I drop the s's in words and the b's and v's are basically the same letter. They always make fun of me for it. Or," she laughed again, "'Chile,'" she said the word clearly, "is pronounced 'Tchile' down there."

Ronon was smiling a crooked half smile. "It's cute," he said, raising his eyebrows. He cleared his throat, frowning. "I'd better go," he murmured, standing up. Emma stood as well. "Good night," he nodded to her, putting his hands in his pockets.

"_Buenas noches_," she smiled.

"And…thanks," he added on his way out.

She fell backwards onto her bed as soon as the door closed. "Oh fuck," she groaned, clamping her hand to her forehead, and feeling how quickly her heart was pounding in her chest.


	12. Chapter 12: Scars

They were into their second week of lessons together and he showed up every time, without fail, at seven on the dot, but today he was late. She suddenly wondered if maybe he was stuck off world on a mission. Just as a minor sense of panic began to course through her body, a knock sounded on her door.

"What did you do?" she asked, concerned, as he came into her quarters. He had the beginnings of a black eye and a fresh gash through his eyebrow.

"Sparring match injury," he replied without further explanation, sitting down.

"Oh my God," she gasped, stopping herself just short of gently touching his face to make sure he was all right. She quickly yanked her arm back to her side.

"I'm fine, really," he assured her, noticing her awkward jerk in movement.

"Does this happen frequently?" she asked in a tone between amusement and bewilderment as she too took a seat.

"Sort of yeah," he answered, scratching his head.

"You must have all kinds of gnarly scars from stuff like that, then," she said nonchalantly, opening a Spanish book.

He nodded, pulling his shirt collar to the side. She looked up at him with surprise. "I got this one during training back on Sateda from my commanding officer."

"You were in the military?" she asked, turning her body toward him and looking at the scar that started on his lower neck and snaked down to his collarbone.

"I was a Specialist in the army of my planet," he responded, letting his shirt go back to normal.

"I had no idea," she said.

He nodded. "This one," he gestured to his bicep, "was from when Sheppard shot me about two years ago," he said with mock contempt, smirking. He paused and the small smile faded from his face. "I uh used to have a few scars on my back from when I was a runner. McKay actually got rid of them," he said in a much quieter tone, no longer meeting her gaze.

"From when you were a runner?" she repeated. "What's that?" she asked, shaking her head.

He didn't say anything.

"Oh, if you don't want to talk about it, please don't," she spat out quickly, "It's not my business."

"Remember how you asked me why I survived the destruction of Sateda?" he asked, despite her protests.

She nodded, eyes wide.

"I was taken. By the Wraith. I was taken alive onto a hive ship and they saw _potential_," he uttered the word with an air of disdain, "in me and decided to use me for sport instead of feed on me immediately."

She gasped, her eyes flickering to his muscled back.

"They implanted a tracking device into my back so they could follow me and hunt me." He paused again. "I hunted back. I tried taking the tracker out on my own a few times, but couldn't get it. That's what a lot of the scars were from," he explained, "I lived like that for seven years."

She stared at him, speechless. She timidly laid her hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He smiled a small bitter smile. "There you go again," he said in a hoarse whisper, "It's not your fault," he said back to her. There was a pregnant silence for a moment; finally Ronon spoke again. "What about you?" he asked, at last looking at her.

"What about me?" she asked back, taking her hand back and folding her arms across her chest.

"You have any scars with great stories?" he continued.

"Not really," she answered, thinking about it, "I mean… It's so trivial," she started, shaking her head and not finishing.

He stared at her expectantly.

She brought her knee to her chest and pulled off her right sock. "I was in a sorority in college…it's like a sisterhood of young women," she clarified, noticing that he was looking at her strangely. "Anyway, we were hosting a philanthropy event. It was a kickball tournament and I had just kicked the ball to one of the other team's outfielders –we were playing one of the fraternities," she interjected, "so I was running the bases and I got to third and this jerk of a Kappa Sig playing third baseman pushed me over and I cut my foot right open on an exposed sprinkler head." She paused and smiled an ironic, cold smile. "I ended up dating him for six months," she finished quietly.

He studied her features. "Why?" he asked.

"Oh if I knew I'd tell you," she sighed.

"So just the one scar?" he enquired, "No more?"

"No," she said slowly, yielding. She took in a quick breath and closed her eyes. "God, I can't believe I'm telling you this…" she muttered. "When I was five, I got the chicken pox."

"Chicken pox?"

"Yeah, it's a disease that children get on Earth. You get itchy spots all over your body and it's not lethal or anything, but it sucks when you do have it. You only get it once in your life though."

"We call it something different," he nodded in comprehension, indicating her to continue.

"I got them real bad," she recounted, "so I have a bunch of really ugly scars on my stomach from them. I hate them," she confessed, putting a hand over her stomach.

"Let me see," Ronon said.

"No!" she countered quickly.

"Sorry," he apologized, losing his calm composure a bit, "I – I shouldn't have asked like that."

She stared at him and looked into his eyes. Normally she would have been reticent, but he had just shared something really vulnerable about himself so she figured she'd share in turn. She stood up and lifted her shirt up to her waist. The jewel on her belly button ring caught the dim light, reflecting it. She glimpsed his hazel eyes momentarily widen at the unexpected surprise, thinking how strange of a custom it must have been for him. "I think I have about eight of them," she sighed, touching a few of the small pockmarks.

"You can barely see them," Ronon assured her, "I promise."

She smiled and pulled her shirt back down, blushing. "Maybe if I had a better story to go with them than just the chicken pox, they wouldn't be so ugly," she frowned as she sat in her chair.

Ronon rolled up his pant leg and showed her a nasty scar on his shin.

"What's that from?" she asked him.

"I fell down the stairs here about a year ago," he told her. "Everybody's human."

She grinned widely, her heart suddenly beating harder.

"Of course, I told everyone that it was from a sparring accident," he smirked.

"Of course," she repeated, smirking back.

"What's this one from, then?" he asked, pointing at her left wrist where a huge network of gash marks intersected and crisscrossed on the soft skin there and up the inside of her forearm.

"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly, pulling her arms into herself and crossing them over her stomach. "I mean, I don't remember," she said in a would-be calm tone. "Probably an accident on the ranch when I was little," she covered.

He looked at her suspiciously.

"So should we get started on some Spanish?" she suggested, changing the subject.

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><p>Thanks for all of your reading and reviewing, everyone! :D<p> 


	13. Chapter 13: Photographs

Another short chapter, but the chapter after this is (personally) one of my favorites. I'm posting more quickly now because I won't be able to in about two and half weeks for two months. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>They finished their lesson and Ronon stood up to leave. She followed. "Is this you?" he asked, picking up a framed photo. She was riding a burly, dark, almost black, horse that was galloping so fast, it looked like it was in danger of collapsing on its side. Its long tail blew in the wake of the wind it created. She wore a checkered pink blouse, a thick brown belt, jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots. Her long red hair blew freely behind her underneath a cream-colored cowboy hat. The absolute control over her horse was evident by the look of sheer focus on her face.<p>

"Yeah," she smiled, looking down at it in his hands, "I was…sixteen, I think."

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Barrel racing," she answered, putting her hands in her back pockets, "You run a horse around a bunch of barrels," she explained, drawing the trajectory in the air with her finger. "That's my mustang, Porthos. I was pretty good; won first place that year." She paused for a second. "I broke that stallion when I was fourteen," she recalled.

"Broke it?" he repeated with confusion.

"Yeah, I saddle trained him," she nodded, "My daddy likes to buy wild horses – my mother hates it," she interjected, "thinks it's cruel… Anyway, my dad is absolutely awful at breaking horses and couldn't do it. I sat by and watched him try, and fail," she snickered, "for a few days, but he would never let me into the paddock with him. He was afraid I'd get hurt."

Ronon sat on her bed and she sat next to him, taking the photograph from his grip.

"So one night, I snuck out of bed and went into the stables to find this horse and I led him out into the paddock. I stayed up almost the whole night trying to gain his trust. The next morning, my dad came out to try to break him again, and there I was, sitting right on top of him, saddle and everything."

"Wasn't your father mad?" he asked.

She laughed. "Oh he was _furious_ … for about a minute." She paused for a moment, smirking at the photograph. "He's had me break every horse he's bought since then."

"And who's that from?" he asked, pointing to the drawing above her desk.

"That," she said with affection, "is from my beautiful niece Allie," she beamed, standing up again to find a picture of her. "She's my older sister's daughter. She's almost four years old." She handed him the frame.

"She looks a lot like you," he observed, cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah, well, strong genes in the Rogers family," she muttered as an explanation, "She says it's us together when I come back," she sniffed softly, describing the hand drawn picture. She felt hot tears behind her eyes and her heart was aching. She hadn't acknowledged until just then how much she missed her family.

Ronon understood her silence and didn't say anything, but stood up next to her.

"I'm swinging on the playground with her in the picture," she laughed feebly.

"You miss them," he said, placing a comforting hand on her back.

She nodded, still holding back her tears. "I do. I really do. It's not like it was when I was in England or Chile," she said, "I could talk to them every day. Here, I can't communicate with them at all." She stopped talking for a minute. "It's just…so weird because Atlantis feels just like Chile." She paused, trying not to lose her composure. "Chile was honestly the best year of my life. I don't want to leave here," she assured him. "It's just…in Chile, I could still talk to my mom and dad and see Allie's little face," she smiled sadly.

"Why did you go to Chile?" he questioned. His hand felt heavy on her back.

"For my Spanish," she answered quickly. He stared into her eyes. She blinked. "And to escape," she finally admitted.

"From what?" he prodded.

"Nothing," she breathed, shaking her head and wiping a tear away before it even fell, "It's a long story."

"Is that why you came here?" he persisted, "To escape?"

She studied his face. "Yes," she finally answered.

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><p>Please read and review! Thanks!<p> 


	14. Chapter 14: Bachata

I hope you all like this chapter! It will probably take a while for the next one because I have to severely edit it. If I put it in as is, I may have to change the rating to M, which is something I really don't want to do. Anyway, here's this one!

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><p>She played the song again on her computer and held the paper he had just filled out, checking the filled in blanks. "<em>Bien, bien, bien,<em>" she nodded as each of the words he had written were revealed to be correct by the song. "_'Amor' significa _'love' _y 'dolor' significa _'pain,'" she translated, looking up at him.

"Those two always seem to go together, don't they?" he commented under his breath with a raised eyebrow.

She scoffed in agreement. "_Bien,_" she murmured, "'_Pasión' tiene un acento sobre la 'o,'_" she corrected, glancing up at him. "_Bien! Casi perfecto,_" she complimented as the song ended. "I'm sorry if this seems juvenile," she said, pursing her lips, "It's just, it's a great way to practice listening and to remember vocabulary."

He shook his head. "You're a great teacher," he assured her, staring into her eyes.

She blushed slightly. "Thanks," she smiled earnestly, looking away, "I…tutored a lot in my spare time in high school and college."

"Does all Spanish music sound like that?" he asked her, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh no," she laughed, "That was just a silly pop song that was relatively easy to understand," she shrugged, "There's such a variety." She stared at him, licked her lips, then pulled her computer onto her lap. "The Spanish language is intricately linked with a lot of dances. Like…the tango," she gave as an example, finding a tango song on her computer. "I wish I had a video of a tango to show you," she murmured, "I think you'd really like it."

He listened carefully to the wordless music as it started out quiet and timid, the higher strings climbing and inching up and down. With a heavy segue provided by another instrument, it then broke out into a robust and romantic but melancholy melody, accompanied by a dramatic pulse kept by the lower voices. She was right – he did like it. The strings quieted again, leaving only a mysterious, interwoven rhythm of sliding notes and plucked strings to follow. Suddenly, the volume grew louder and the combination of sounds, some foreign to his ear, exuded a cool and confident sensuality as the melody resounded for a second time. The high strings emotionally wailed on the high notes, sending a chill up his spine as their tones resonated against the walls of her quarters.

"Anyway, the tango is danced all around the world, but it originated mostly in Spain and Argentina," she said quietly, noticing how entranced he had become, as the song ended on a gentle cadence. "And then there's, oh salsa," she grinned.

"Isn't that a food?" he asked, squinting, "Sheppard talks about it a lot."

She laughed again. "It is. It's like a hot sauce made with tomatoes and such," she explained, gesturing with her right hand. "But it's also a dance. It's actually pretty easy," she insinuated, glancing over at him as if she were devising a plan.

"No," he said preemptively, shaking his head, "I don't dance."

She clicked another, more upbeat song on her computer. "Stand up," she grinned widely.

He stared at her for a moment, the overwhelming percussive tones seeming to hammer at his brain, ticking away the seconds as he debated his options, until he realized her smile could make him do anything. He stood up in surrender, arms crossed giving her a look that said _this better be worth it_.

"Hold out your hands, palms up," she instructed.

He ran his tongue along his back teeth and begrudgingly obliged, holding out his hands, jaw clenched. She placed her own in his.

"Ok, so the rhythm is quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow," she explained.

"Good rhythm," he said suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

She stifled a laugh at the joke. "Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow," she repeated, still smiling, "or 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7. Does that kind of make sense?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sort of."

"Ok, now the man leads," she told him, looking up into his face, "So you step forward with your left…left?" she looked down at their feet, "Yeah left foot and I go back with my right. You always go forward on the downbeat, I always go back," she demonstrated by making him do the movement slowly. "Ok, then we go back to how we started. Then you go back on your right foot and I go forward with my left. That's the basic salsa step," she concluded. "Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, looking down at their feet.

"1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7," she counted. He moved his left leg forward and she followed.

He followed the vibrant, cheerful beat as the singer's voice temporarily dropped out, leaving a chorus of bold horns, drums, and another wooden instrument that kept time. "This is easy," he admitted, looking up from their feet to her face.

"I told ya," she smirked, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light, "Ok, so this is called closed position. Now let's try open position. Follow my lead for just a second." She let go of one hand and stepped sideways. He mirrored her. They returned to the basic position, then stepped the other way. "That's open position," she described as they returned to the basic closed position step. "You lead now," she ordered confidently.

The way she was looking into his eyes made it feel like a challenge. He led her flawlessly for the short remainder of the song. For most of the song, his eyes fixated on her hips as they moved in motion with the music, popping on the unstressed beats of the steps. Every time he tried to look away, he somehow found himself staring at them again.

"You're a strong lead," she said as the percussive elements halted and the song died out, her voice slightly shaking. He saw that her cheeks and chest were flushing. He could always tell that he was making her nervous when that happened. Another song started on her computer.

"Is this salsa?" he asked her, noticing the difference in tempo and instrumentation. This song was much slower and conveyed a strong sense of loss and longing.

"Bachata," she stated, an unreadable change in expression overcoming her, "It's Dominican. It's…pretty easy too. Although it might be a bit harder since you're so tall," she told him, avoiding his gaze.

"Teach me."

She stared him down and finally stepped closer to him. Her scent overwhelmed him. "Well, one of the holds is different," she began, her breath labored. She shifted her right hand in his left. "This goes here," she instructed as she moved his right hand to her upper back, then put her arm over his. "And the stance, too," she swallowed. She straddled his right leg. He no longer heard any of the words she was saying and tried his best to follow her movements. Again, he was distracted by her hips, popping every few beats. He heard her mutter something about high heels. He felt her heat radiating against him, and was suddenly very conscious of how close their legs were, interwoven together. Occasionally her leg would brush against his lap or her pelvic bone would bump against his leg. He felt a passion and yearning for her grow stronger in his chest.

_Mira, cómo estoy sufriendo. Me quemo por dentro, por sentir tu amor. _

_Mami, no me hagas eso. Sabes que te quiero, con todo el corazón. _

All of the background music dropped out of the song, leaving just the intimate sound of the singers' voices and a vague beat to dance to. She spun in his arms and no longer faced him. One of his arms was now entwined around her waist as they continued to move in rhythm. He controlled and fought back every natural, carnal instinct he possessed as he got caught in a wave of her perfumed hair and skin. She spun back out and he took the lead, pushing her out, then pulling her back in, hardly conscious of the movements he was making.

_Mira, cómo estoy sufriendo. Me quemo por dentro, por sentir tu amor. _

He dipped her in his arms as the song ended, supporting all of her weight with one of his arms. He pulled her back up and stared into her eyes; she stared back, breathing hard. Their torsos were an inch from touching. He felt her breath on his chest. Her legs started to quiver around his own. "Nice move," she tried to say, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat. "Nice move," she smiled tensely, breaking free of his grasp. "That's bachata," she concluded lamely, closing her computer. He could visibly tell that she was still rattled and even aroused. He watched her chest rise and fall as she pulled her hair off the back of her neck in an attempt to cool down.

"How do you know all this?" he asked her, intrigued, trying to distract himself.

"My roommate in college dragged me to Salsa Club every Wednesday," she laughed, gripping onto the desk behind her for support as if it were the only thing preventing her from crumpling to the floor.

"You're good," he told her with a subtle nod in her direction.

"Eh. I'm decent," she qualified, "And you're a quick study," she complimented.

"Sparring and dancing aren't that different," he reasoned.

She nodded, staring at him again. He swore he saw something flash across her eyes, but it was gone before he realized what it was.

"Anyway, good night Emma," he said.

"Good night," she whispered. He grabbed his holster and gun and headed to her doorway, then ran his hand over the control panel. "Oh my God," she exhaled deeply as soon as the door was shut. She felt like she was going to burst any second. Her body seemed like it had electric currents running through her blood making her tremble. She had danced the bachata countless times, but never like that.

Ronon headed directly to the gym from her quarters where he quickly passed Sheppard.  
>"Hey buddy, what's up?" Sheppard greeted cheerfully.<p>

"I love Spanish," he said enthusiastically, gripping Sheppard tightly by the shoulders, then letting go and continuing on his way.

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><p>AN: I do NOT own any part of the bachata song I mentioned. That credit goes to the group Xtreme for their song "Te extraño." If you go on YouTube and search the band name and then the song, the first result is a super SUPER sensual (and good) version of the bachata if you've never seen it before.

The lyrics in English are:

"Look at how I'm suffering. I'm burning on the inside to feel your love.

Baby, don't do this to me. You know that I love you, with all of my heart."


	15. Chapter 15: A Dream Overheard

Sorry for the delay! I have decided to change the rating to M. I don't know if this chapter needs it (better safe than sorry?), but later ones probably will. Hope I don't lose any of you!

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><p>There was a thumping sound. At first she thought it was coming from inside the room, but it stopped. Then she heard it again. She opened her eyes and found herself lying on her bed. Whatever it was, the noise had pulled her out of what she just realized had been a dream. Flashes of it played like disjointed clips from a movie through her mind. <em>His lips against her neck. Her back pressed flush against her bedroom wall. His naked chest against hers. Rough hands holding her arms above her head by her wrists.<em> She sat up quickly and realized she was alone in her room. She ran a hand through her hair, still trying to situate herself. _His hands running up her thighs. His smoldering eyes burning into her as he told her to put her arms around his neck and then lifted her off the floor. Her legs around his waist. Her fingernails digging deeply into the defined muscles of his back as she clutched tightly to him. Her back arching against the wall. His low grunts and growls in her ear. The blood rushing to her chest as it turned red._ She was still out of breath and flushed. The knocking happened again. She leapt up and opened her door.

"Ronon," she gasped.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, stepping into her room. He turned around and looked at her, frowning. "You ok?" he asked, noting her disheveled appearance, lack of air supply, and sweaty brow.

"Fine," she replied, still breathless, "I just dozed off."

"Nightmare?" he asked, unstrapping his gun holster from his leg.

"No," she shook her head, "Just a—just a dream," she said feebly. "It was my first trip off world today," she provided as an explanation for her spontaneous nap, trying to change the subject.

"Just a vivid dream?" he pressed on.

"Very," she nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze.

He smirked. "I uh…I thought I heard you saying my name. S'why I kept knocking," he revealed.

"Really?" she asked in a high-pitched voice, blushing bright red.

"Anyway," he carried on. "Spanish," he announced, rubbing his hands together.

"Right," she squeaked, following him to her desk. She sat down and sighed. "Ok, I have a confession to make," she started.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I…didn't make a lesson plan for today," she continued.

He closed his eyes for a moment and looked down, expecting a confession of a very different sort, then returned his gaze to her.

"I was going to do it when I got back from being off world and I fell asleep instead," she grimaced. She looked down at her watch, then paused and thought for a moment. "I'm just gonna teach you swear words," she stated, pushing her books to the edge of her desk.

"Hell yeah," he said in agreement.

The rest of the lesson went by smoothly. He laughed after every curse word she taught him, repeating them slowly, then pretending to use them in real context. She laughed at his amusement.

"Well that's all I've got for today," she sighed.

"Good lesson," he smiled, "Very useful."

"I try," she smiled back.

"Hey," he began, digging the heels of his palms into his legs.

She cocked her head with curiosity as he spoke.

"I'm gonna be gone for a few days next week – "

"Oh, that's fine. You don't need to schedule a make-up lesson or anything," she interrupted.

"That's…not what I was gonna say," he said, shaking his head as his eyes met hers, "You have a favorite movie or something?" he asked.

"Yeah," she smiled.

"You wanna show it to me some time this weekend?" he asked with a smirk.

"Sure," she nodded, trying to remain calm and keep all of her emotions and excitement contained.

He strapped his holster back onto his leg. "It's not in Spanish is it?" he asked warily, looking over at her.

"No," she laughed, "Definitely in English."

"Good," he grunted as he got up to leave.

She let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, and Emma. Next time you decide to have sex with me, I'd really like to be there for it," he said mischievously, then disappeared into the corridor.

She was speechless. She felt the blood rushing to her face and could hear it in her ears, muffling the sounds around her. She was beyond humiliated. How much had she said and how much had he heard?

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><p>He walked back to his quarters with a bounce in his step. She wanted him and he had caught her. From the other side of the door, he could hear her softly moaning and saying his name. Most of the words were incoherent, but he made out what he could. She maybe didn't want to admit it, but deep down, she longed for him as much as he did for her – he had been having similar dreams the past few nights. But he needed to find a way to get past that barrier she always put up whenever she was about to share something with him. Every time she came close to revealing something sensitive about herself, she backed away like a skittish deer. She was more like him than he had initially realized. She didn't trust easily. She didn't trust him…not yet.<p>

He changed directions and instead made his way to Sheppard's quarters. He knocked and heard a loud "come in" from the other side. He entered without a pause. "How do you get someone to trust you?" he asked immediately.

"Uh…" Sheppard responded eloquently, "Well, you have to build…trust with them," he shrugged.

Ronon raised an eyebrow indicating he wasn't entirely amused.

"You…you have to appeal to them in a special way," he stammered, "And then you have to share something risky about yourself so they'll feel at ease and want to trade something risky about themselves," he explained, looking a bit surprised at his own successful advice.

"Thanks," Ronon said gruffly, turning around to leave.

"Wait big guy, who are you trying to get to trust you?" he asked nosily, sitting up straighter in his bed.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, heading back into the hallway.

"Yeah but I'm curious," Sheppard said to himself.

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><p>Please read and review! :) Thanks, everyone!<p> 


	16. Chapter 16: Pronunciation Lessons

Apologies for how short it is! But hopefully worth it?

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><p>"So," he said casually, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head, "How am I doing?" he asked with a grin. Ever since he had caught her dreaming the previous day, he had been acting slightly more cocky than usual.<p>

She paused. "Your grammar is very good," she finally told him, "Excellent, actually. Hardly any errors. But…"

"But what?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"But your pronunciation needs a little work," she winced, "Just a little," she qualified.

"All right," he nodded, leaning forward again.

"Like…your d's and t's," she started, "they're not supposed to be like English. In English you say them here," she pointed to the ridge behind the teeth in her mouth, "You put your tongue there when you say them. But in Spanish, t's and d's are dentalized."

"Meaning?"

"You kind of put your tongue between your teeth. Say… _diente_," she instructed.

"_Diente_."

"No see you did the English thing," she corrected. "Say it in between the teeth."

"Thee-en-thay," he tried again.

She laughed. "Not quite. Not so much air. It's softer. Say 'thin.'"

"_Delgado_," he said without skipping a beat.

"No," she laughed again, "I meant in English, but that's great," she said with her eyebrows raised in approval.

"Thin."

"Ok, now say 'that.'"

"That."

"That second 'th' sound is the one you want when you say the 'd' in Spanish. Look at my mouth. Look where I put my tongue. _Diente_," she demonstrated.

He stared at her for a long second. The corner of his mouth raised slightly and he blinked slowly. She felt her cheeks go hot. She felt the whole room go hot. She had often been told that, along with her eyes, her full lips were her best feature. She wondered if he was thinking just that. "_Diente_," he tried again, his eyes locked on hers.

"Close," she cleared her throat, "Close." She looked down into her lap, afraid of the consequences of being caught in a staring contest with the Satedan. "You had the d right but the t was still a little too harsh," she nodded nervously. "_Diente_," she repeated one last time, her voice cracking as she looked back up at him.

She watched him form the first sound of the word, but didn't let him finish. She kept thinking about every moment during their lessons when his hand would accidentally touch hers as they turned the page of the book and the night they had danced the bachata and her recent dream and she had wanted so desperately to kiss him since he walked through her door. She finally stopped thinking and couldn't resist anymore. Leaning over in her chair and across his body, she touched her lips to his, one of her hands planted firmly on his leg. "I—I'm sorry," she stuttered, pulling away and avoiding his gaze. He wrapped his hand behind her neck and pulled her face close to his again, but didn't kiss her. He merely gave her his usual mischievous smirk. He was playing games with her and wanted her to slip up again. And for the moment, she didn't care about losing. She kissed him again.

"I knew you weren't sorry," he spoke softly against her mouth.

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><p>Thanks! Please read and review!<p> 


	17. Chapter 17: Singin' in the Rain

Finally a long chapter! Hope you like it! I…took some liberties with Ronon's backstory. (I'm back to updating quickly again, by the way.)

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><p>"So…this is your favorite movie?" he asked with a frown as soon as the last shot panned out and faded to black. Before they had started watching it, she gave him a basic plot summary: it was a film made in the early 1950's about the late 1920's and the advent of the "talking picture." The main character, a silent actor named Don Lockwood must find a successful way to transition into the realm of talking pictures along with the help of his best friend, Cosmo Brown. The only problem is Don's perpetual co-star, Lina Lamont, a spiteful woman with an awful speaking voice to whom Don is unfortunately linked. Don encounters Kathy Selden, a young aspiring actress, to dub over Lina's voice and they fall in love. Emma told him that it was considered a classic and one of the best films ever made.<p>

"Yeah," she nodded in reply, stretching her arms out a bit.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

"I know, not exactly your type of film," she laughed quietly, "I didn't really expect you to enjoy it," she admitted, glancing over at him.

"It's no _Jaws_," he smirked.

"No. Definitely not," she laughed, "It's not exactly a movie you have to love for the plot," she reasoned, "The plot is decent at best, but the way it's revealed is why I love it. And I think the music is wonderful," she smiled, "especially the title number. Haven't you ever been so happy that nothing could get you down and you could just sing in the rain not caring that you were soaking from head to toe?" she asked, more passionately than she had intended.

Something flickered across his deep-set eyes. In one swift second, his features softened. And then they returned to normal. "Sing?" he reiterated.

"Ok, maybe not sing," she conceded, "but you know what I mean."

"I guess, yeah," he agreed.

"That's why I love it," she shrugged, "If I'm ever feeling sad, all I have to do is think of that sequence and I suddenly feel a little bit better. Because even in the rain, you can still find happiness," she finished quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. She could feel him staring at her. It was silent for a moment except for the white noise of the television in the background. "Can I ask you something?" she enquired quietly.

"What?" he replied gruffly.

"When you leant me your coat that day we went to the mainland, I…I found the photograph in the pocket," she confessed, still looking at her hands, "Who was she?" she asked timidly.

She looked up at him and his entire body seemed to have gone rigid and frozen.

_Shit, _she thought. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," she said quickly.

"Her name was Melena," he spoke, cutting her off. She stopped talking. He started tightening his leather wrist guards.

"Melena?" she repeated softly.

"Melena Dex," he stated, clenching his teeth.

She looked at him with wide eyes, silently begging for more details, for him to open up more to her.

"I was twenty when the Wraith attacked," he started, "Melena and I had known each other for a few years…she was twenty one." He hesitated. "One day, a few weeks before the initial attacks, I asked her to marry me," he revealed. She saw tears beginning to form in his eyes, but knew that the proud Satedan warrior would never allow one to fall.

"Why?" she prodded gently and cautiously.

"A number of reasons," he responded, taking a deep steadying breath in, "I loved her." He paused. "I still love her. Always will," his voice cracked, "I uh…I also had gotten her pregnant." Her eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath. "We eloped just two days before the Wraith arrived. We knew they were coming. I wanted to marry her before," he swallowed and took a long time to finish his sentence. It was as if the words would not form in his mouth. "Before we were killed," he finally finished. She saw the strain he was placing on himself not to cry, his jaw tense as he tried to control his emotions. "Hardly anyone knew about it…about the pregnancy and the marriage," he said, now just looking down into his lap, tapping his fingers on his leg. "You're the first person I've told," he quietly confessed.

She stared at him for a long time, stunned to see this side of him. Her heart ached and felt like it was breaking for him. She slid closer to him on the couch, traversing the awkward distance they had maintained between themselves during the movie until their bodies touched. He looked down at her questioningly. She reached across his lap and took his large hand in hers, then laid her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her hip and pulled her closer to him.

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><p>"We can speak in here, Rodney," Teyla hissed in a low voice, warning him to keep his mouth shut until they were out of hearing range of any ears wandering the night corridors. She slid her hand over the control crystals and the door opened with a quiet <em>swoosh. <em>They took two steps forward, then stopped dead in their tracks. Ronon and Dr. Rogers were asleep on the sofa in front of the television. Ronon was in a slumped seated position in the corner of the couch, his arm around the young doctor's waist. Dr. Rogers was curled up on the couch with her legs pulled in tightly, resting her head on Ronon's broad chest. She held one of his hands in hers. Teyla smiled and backed out of the room. McKay gave them a confused last glance and followed her lead.

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><p>Ronon woke with a start and quickly scanned the whole dark room. His grip on Emma tightened. No one was there except for them.<p>

"What is it?" she asked quietly, looking up into his face from his chest.

"Thought I heard the door," he replied in a voice that echoed in his chest, still holding her tightly.

Emma looked down at her timepiece on her left wrist. "I should go back to my room," she yawned.

"I'll walk you," Ronon stated, straightening his body. Together they stood up and Emma ejected the movie from the television. At first in the corridor, they walked apart from one another, but soon Ronon pulled her to him and snaked his arm around her waist. She reciprocated and did the same, smiling to herself. They stopped in silence in front of her quarters. She fiddled with the edges of the DVD box as he stared at her with his hazel eyes. He placed two hands on her hips, pulled her body to his and brought his lips down to hers. She dropped the movie and wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on the tips of her toes to reach him. With every minute, the kiss deepened and she released more and more control, losing herself against him. She felt something like an electric shock surge through her chest as his warm tongue touched her lips and her tongue. His hold on her hips turned into a full embrace around her lower back as he drew her in even closer. Their chests were pressed against one another, rising and falling in slow rhythm. She felt her head clouding and her knees weakening. His hand, accidentally she thought, slipped slightly up the back of her shirt. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the perpetual coldness of hers, making her open her eyes and take a breath. Ronon pulled away and loosened his grip on her. She fell back onto the flats of her feet, looking up at him in the moonlight. _Ask him to come in. Ask him to come in,_ her head screamed.

They stared at one another for a moment and Ronon moved his hand to the side of her neck, gently touching her cheek. "Good night, Emma," he spoke lowly. He let go of her and bent down to pick up the movie she had dropped. She followed his every movement with her eyes.

"Do you—" she started.

"Yes," he answered without pause, "But…I have that early mission tomorrow," he said calmly, handing her the movie.

"Rain check," she laughed quietly to herself, looking down at the cover of the film.

"What?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

"Never mind," she smiled, looking back up at him, "Good night Ronon." She stood on her tiptoes again and softly kissed his cheek, then ran her hand along the control crystals and walked backwards into her room.

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><p>AN: I own no part of _Singin' in the Rain. _Can never be too cautious.

Please read and review! Thanks everyone! :D


	18. Chapter 18: Eyeliner

I apologize for this chapter…haha. Hope you still like it!

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><p>"Where the hell is it?" she muttered to herself, pulling the contents of her top nightstand drawer apart. "Ah!" she exclaimed as her fingers closed around the small cylindrical glass bottle. She popped the cap off and sprayed a bit of the sweet fragrance on her neck and chest. From the minute she woke up that morning, knowing she would have another Spanish lesson with Ronon in the evening now that he was back on Atlantis, she knew she would not be wearing her base uniform. Of the very few outfits she had brought with her, she threw on a pair of ripped jeans and a tight, colorful V-neck. She paced in and out of her room and bathroom, constantly checking herself in the mirror. She vigorously brushed her teeth to try to pass the time. He was late today. He was never late. She hated waiting. She reached into her underutilized makeup bag and ran black eyeliner along her lower lids. Her sister always told her that when she wore eyeliner she changed from "girl next door" to "sex on legs." She laughed to herself and ran a hand through her hair. The knock on her door that she had been waiting for all night finally arrived. Her heart leapt into her throat.<p>

She opened the door and stood in front of him. He looked down at her with that familiar, knowing smirk, the doorway shrinking in size with him under it.

"Hi," she awkwardly squeaked.

He took a step towards her and her heart raced even faster. For a moment, it felt like they were in a standoff, inches away from one another, unblinking, blood pumping. He finally swooped down and pressed his lips against hers. She pulled him inside her room and the door shut behind them. Still locked in his arms, she hastily ran her hand down the lights sensor and they dimmed overhead. She placed both hands on his chest, clutching onto his leather vest.

He kissed her neck and shoulder, pushing her shirt collar to the side. A chill radiated down her body and her stomach twisted with anticipation. The two fell onto her bed and she unhooked her bra, pulling it out from under her top. He ran his hands along her torso, filling his hand with her breast, her nipples hard to the touch of his palms from underneath the sheer cotton. She felt completely incapacitated by him and his size, looming over her, kissing her chest. She wrapped her hand tightly around the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. Suddenly, his warm hands were underneath her shirt, peeling it off of her body. Her hips ground against his seemingly of their own accord and he groaned with desire and impatience. She looked down and started to unfasten the fly of his pants, fumbling with the laces. She giggled.

"What?" he asked urgently, looking down with concern and a small amount of horror.

"It's not a zipper," she giggled again, finally untying all the laces. "What?" she whispered, looking into his eyes.

"That's not usually the reaction I get," he breathed, placing a kiss on her collarbone, sounding relieved.

Trying to keep her giggling to a minimum, she smirked at him, then kissed him again. He felt for the button and zipper of her jeans and slipped his hands around her hips underneath the worn denim.

"Colonel Carter, SGA-1, and Dr. Rogers to the languages lab immediately," a loud announcement sounded over the citywide intercom, "Carter, SGA-1, and Dr. Emma Rogers. Immediately."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" she hissed.

Ronon pulled away from her and she sat up quickly, searching for her bra. She put it back on, stood up, and buttoned her pants. Ronon did the same. She hadn't even finished pulling her shirt back over her head before running out of her room without a word, Ronon at her heels. They were the last to arrive in the lab despite their sprint over, already out of breath from their romantic encounter. Everyone looked at them, puzzled. Emma was out of uniform, wearing uncustomary sultry makeup, her cheeks pink, and hair tousled. Ronon was still buttoning up the last two buttons of his vest.

"Were you guys just—?" McKay asked, waggling a finger between the two of them.

"Not your business, McKay," Ronon cut him off with a menacing glance.

McKay shut up.

"What's going on?" Emma asked, going straight to business and trying to ignore their questioning and suspecting stares.

"The Wraith database was hijacked," one of the junior linguists (who ironically was older than Emma) started.

"Meaning?" McKay asked impatiently.

"A warning message appeared on the screen for about half a minute, and we could only decipher about half of it without you," he indicated to Emma.

"Did you copy it down before it disappeared?" Emma asked urgently.

"Yes," he said, handing her the paper.

She read it and studied it, frowning.

"What is it?" Ronon asked, reading her expression.

"This is a dialect we've never seen before," she started.

"Can you read it?" Sheppard queried.

She nodded. "I think so. It says 'Prepare the hostages. Wait out the fortnight,'" she looked up, confused. "Does that mean anything to you?" she asked the others.

They all shook their heads.

"All right, Rodney, Dr. Rogers," Col. Carter began, "I want you and Dr. Zelenka working on this to see if you can decipher more. Rodney, see if you can figure out how they hacked into the system and if they have hacked into any more of our computers. Dr. Rogers, figure out any more you can from this message. The Wraith's primary downfall is their overconfidence. They may have left more clues than we realize. I think it's safe to assume they are planning an attack on the city and have given us a timeframe. John, Teyla, Ronon," she said turning to them, "Keep on standby; we may need to buffer the city's defenses."

"Col. Carter," Teyla spoke up, "Is there anything important to be happening a fortnight from now?" she asked.

"The Awards and Promotion Ceremony," she answered without having to think, "That's what leads me to believe they hacked into our other systems. They know about it and know we'd be caught off guard. We'll move it forward a week. Hopefully everyone will understand."

"Do you think it's wise to host it still?" Sheppard questioned, concerned.

"It's not up to me," Carter replied, "Both the IOA and General Landry have made it very clear that this ceremony must take place within the next month in order to raise morale, and more importantly, reinforce the chain of command around the base. We will make sure that security is at its tightest," she reassured them.

Everyone nodded.

"Rodney, Dr. Rogers, I'll try to get Zelenka down here. Work until you're too tired and resume tomorrow. This takes priority over all of your other projects," she instructed, "The rest of you are free to go, but stay on your radio channels."

Emma sat down in a tall chair and pulled her messy hair into a ponytail, opening a book on Ancient Latin and a photocopied version of Dr. Jackson's notes on Wraith. Everyone except for the other linguists and McKay left them in peace. Ronon hung back, squeezed her hand under the table and left. She smiled after him, selfishly wishing they hadn't been interrupted. She turned back and noticed the junior linguist staring at her. This was the last time she would wear eyeliner for a long time.

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><p>Please read and review! Thank you!<p> 


	19. Chapter 19: A Long Story

(Something I found out that probably no one cares about…I found out that the college I said Emma goes to doesn't have Greek Life…so that's inaccurate. Oops. Just go with it.)

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><p>She turned the corner of the hallway and looked up from the notes she was scanning. She instinctually smiled as soon as she recognized Ronon's silhouette, but the smile soon faded from her lips. Enraged, he was yelling loudly at a young marine that Emma frequently crossed paths with. Even from her distance, she could feel his fury emanating in waves from his massive body. She backtracked and hid in the corner, watching.<p>

"Corporal, stand down!" Sheppard ordered, standing next to Ronon.

The corporal stopped speaking. Seemingly satisfied, Ronon and Sheppard turned around as if they were going to leave, but Ronon quickly spun on his heel and hit the corporal directly in the face. His jaw made an awful popping sound as Ronon's fist met it with bone crushing force and he fell to the ground immediately. Panicking, Emma felt her lungs starting to contract. She shakily pulled out her inhaler from her pocket and took a hit.

"Ronon!" Sheppard bellowed, holding him back, "What the hell was that for?" He knelt on the ground and felt for a pulse on the marine's neck. Ronon menacingly looked down over him, a murderous expression accenting his harsh features. "He's knocked out," Sheppard muttered. "Medical team to the southeast pier," he said into his radio, "We have an unconscious man."

"He'll be fine," Ronon said in a low voice, still steaming with anger. Emma turned around and hurried back to her workstation, holding back tears, a familiar feeling of dread boiling in her stomach.

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><p>"Colonel," the young marine nodded to Sheppard.<p>

"Corporal," Sheppard nodded back.

"How's the cunning linguist?" he murmured to Ronon as their shoulders collided.

"What?" Ronon asked in a threatening tone, turning around on a dime.

"You know, the redhead? How is she?" he prodded on.

"Corporal, are you stupid?" Sheppard interrupted, now standing at Ronon's side.

"You know, there's something I think about _every_ time I see her in the corridors. Maybe you can answer this for me. I was just wondering…" he slowly began with a leer, "does the carpet match the drapery?" he continued, a glint in his cold eyes.

"Corporal!" Sheppard scolded, "You continue like this and I will report you for sexual harassment!"

"I just figured you'd know by now if she's anything like her good friend Lacey. Well…you and half the base. Maybe you could do a side-by-side comparison or uh evaluation of the two for me," he sneered.

Ronon took two strides closer to the corporal so that they were mere inches apart. He scowled down into his face. "You really want to pick a fight with someone twice your size?" Ronon growled.

"Twice my size?" he scoffed, taking a large step backwards, glancing down at Ronon's crotch. "I don't know if that's true. We could just ask Dr. Rogers to get down on her knees and decide," he shrugged.

Ronon reached out for his throat, but Sheppard caught him from behind and stopped him. "You better turn and run you piece of shit!" Ronon yelled.

"Yeah you'd know all about that," he yelled back.

"Corporal, stand down!" Sheppard ordered.

The marine shut his mouth and didn't say another word. Ronon glared at him, but turned to leave with Sheppard. As soon as their backs were to him, Cpl. Hanson made a small gagging noise. Ronon rounded on him and punched him square in the jaw, knocking him unconscious before his head even hit the floor.

"Ronon!" Sheppard yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders, "What the hell was that for?" He knelt on the ground and felt for a pulse. Ronon looked down over the passed out marine, wanting nothing more than to continue to pummel him. "He's knocked out. Medical team to the southeast pier," Sheppard said into his radio, "We have an unconscious man."

"He'll be fine," Ronon snarled, still shaking with rage.

"Ronon, you know I don't want to get you into trouble, but when Col. Carter starts asking questions about Hanson, you know you'll have to take the fall, right?" Sheppard asked, stepping in front of him.

"I know," he replied, avoiding Sheppard's gaze, "And I will."

"I hate him just as much as you do, but he was standing down."

"Just as much as I do?" Ronon challenged, staring down into Sheppard's face.

He paused. "Ok, not quite," he conceded.

"John, I couldn't let him get away with saying those things about her," he said in a raised voice.

"I know you care about Emma, but—"

"But what?" he turned away, "If you had been me, what would you have done?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard let out a breath of air and nodded. They waited for the medical team to arrive and then decided to go meet Colonel Carter before she heard the news from someone else.

"So uh…you slept with Dr. Peters?" Sheppard asked cautiously as they walked, his curiosity outweighing his concerns for his own safety.

"Once," Ronon answered brusquely, "She's…hard to resist," he explained.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sheppard mused. The two men exchanged a look of weird comprehension, then continued on their way.

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><p>She sat staring blindly at the Wraith database as memories washed over her, impeding her ability to focus.<p>

_The bar was dark and smoky. She hated places like this, it was hard for her to breathe through all the cigarette smoke, but she didn't say a word when he said that they would be going. _

_Just an hour ago, she had been watching a movie in the Delta Gamma house with a few of her sorority sisters laughing, gossiping, and sipping on Diet Coke. It was the end of her junior year, she was finishing up her term as president, and they wanted to have a quiet and informal sisterhood night. Her friend, Adriana, had gotten up when the doorbell rang and answered the door. _

_"I found a Kappa Sig," she called lightly as she walked back into the living room with Emma's then boyfriend. She plopped back down onto her spot on the carpet and pulled a blue pillow to her chest._

"_Hey," Emma greeted tensely, standing up._

"_Get your coat, we're going out," he told her slyly._

"_Where?" she asked cautiously._

"_It's a surprise," he responded, smiling._

_She nodded and went to go find her jacket._

"_Em wait!" one of her sisters called, "Tony, the movie's almost over, you should finish it with us."_

_Emma hurried back in and replied for him. "Uh…no, that's ok," she said quickly, "I – I've seen it before anyway. It's got a good ending," she smiled._

"_What time do you think you'll be back?" her friend, and then roommate, Seline asked in a low voice. Starkly contrasting with the others in the room, her expression was grim and watchful._

_Emma looked over at Tony. He shrugged. "I'll have her back by curfew, I promise," he said, pulling her close to him._

_Seline didn't look amused. She raised an eyebrow and returned her gaze to the television screen with a dismissive but reluctant "Ok whatever."_

_His grip on her waist grew tighter. "Good night everyone," she called as they headed out the door._

"_Night Em!" a few called back._

_The door shut behind them and she felt like any connection with the night she wanted to have had been severed as she looked back at the anchor-shaped doorknocker one more time._

_Tony was off playing pool, only onto his second beer by now. She remained seated by the bar – he always said her presence distracted him from the game – and took a long drink from another Diet Coke that she had ordered._

_A tall, handsome man approached her and she tried to avoid eye contact, but it made no difference._

"_I'd offer you to buy you a drink, but it looks like you already have one," he started off saying._

_She opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted._

"_Wait, are you the DG president at school?" he asked._

_Her eyes widened and she nodded. "Yes, yes I am," she replied quietly._

"_I transferred here last year," he explained, "and was a Fiji at my old school."_

_"Oh," she nodded, still avoiding his eyes._

"_I was kinda bummed to see there wasn't a chapter here. We would always have Fiji and DG mixers," he laughed, "I'm Max," he smiled as he held out his hand for her to shake._

_She looked down and kept her hand planted firmly on her drink. "Look, I'm sorry Max," she said quickly, "but I'm actually here with my boyfriend," she winced._

"_Oh," he exclaimed, immediately backing off, "I didn't realize. I'm sorry," he apologized._

Please go away, please go away, _she mentally willed to him_, For the love of all that is holy, go away_._

"_Who's this?" she heard Tony's voice ask angrily from behind her. She felt her insides go cold._

"_Sorry, dude," Max said placing his hands out in front of him, palms out, "You must be her boyfriend. I didn't mean to – "_

_Tony's fist met his face before he even finished his sentence. Max tried to throw a defensive punch in return, but Tony got him again, this time on the other cheek._

_Emma got in between them and intercepted Tony's fist. "Stop it!" she yelled at him, staring him in the eyes. He pulled his hand away from her and he stopped, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to the car. He drove her back to her apartment building in silence. She sat in the passenger seat, praying that he wouldn't get out and walk her to the door. He stopped the car; she opened her door and began walking briskly to the entranceway. With a feeling of dread, she heard his car door slam shut, too. He caught up with her as she struggled to work her key to let herself in. As soon as she walked through the door into the complex's pre-room, he slipped in and pinned her against the wall._

"_Don't you ever get in my way like that again," he snarled in her face. She said nothing. He backhanded her once across the face and tears immediately stung her eyes. Warm blood trickled down her cheek where his ring had caught her soft skin. She heard him grunting things about how she was dressed, how it was her fault that she attracted the other guy, how he was ashamed to be seen with a slut like her. Again across the face. A closed fist to the stomach. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her face to his. She yelped. "I bet you wanted to go with him, didn't you?" he whispered through his teeth, "That's why you stopped me, isn't it?" A fist to the face and her nose began to bleed. Tears fell from her eyes and she couldn't breathe. Her asthma was taking over and closing her lungs. She fell to the floor and he kicked her in the ribs and stomach. With every attempt she made to take a breath in, her lungs and throat closed more. He stamped on her hand like it was a cigarette to extinguish. She couldn't scream. He left her in the entranceway of her building and walked out the door, leaving her there. She heard his car speed off. She lay on the floor, completely unable to breathe, clutching to her stomach. With her last ounce of strength, she reached her arm up to press the call button for her own apartment._

"Emma?" Zelenka spoke, pulling her out of her reverie, "_Jsi v pořádku?_" he asked.

"_Jsem v pohodě_," she answered weakly, brushing a single tear from her eye.

She would never forget the expression on his face when he made her look at him. It was the same on all of their faces. It was the expression of someone powerful and angry dominating someone weak. It was the expression on Ronon's face as he looked down at the unconscious corporal on the floor and she couldn't shake it.

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><p>Please read and review!<p> 


	20. Chapter 20: DaVinci

Another one! It's short; my apologies. I'm still working on expanding the next chapter so it might be a while.

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><p>"Michelangelo," Zelenka stated, hands on his hips.<p>

"No I'm telling you, Radek, DaVinci," McKay retorted, nostrils flared.

"Michelangelo was a man of many talents! He painted, he sculpted – I mean look at the David for goodness sakes! The Sistine Chapel!" Zelenka argued.

"Yeah well was one of his many talents drawing manly women?" McKay interrupted, "Because he was certainly gifted at that! DaVinci, now DaVinci on the other hand, he was a scientist, a doctor, an inventor!"

"Are you guys _seriously _arguing about Renaissance artists right now?" Emma interjected with frustration, unable to put up with their incessant bickering any longer. "Don't we have more important things to be doing than debate the virtues and flaws of Michelangelo and Leonardo _DaVinci?_" she asked incredulously. "Honestly, how did we even end up on that top … DaVinci," she murmured to herself.

"See, even Emma agrees," McKay sneered with an air of satisfaction.

"Kretén," Zelenka muttered under his breath.

"Hey Alan," she called to the junior linguist, "where's that screenshot of the Wraith warning?" she asked, rummaging through piles and piles of paper and notes.

"Oh, I've got it right here," he answered, handing her the piece of paper he was studying with a magnifying glass."

"Thanks," she said distractedly as she took the paper from him. Zelenka and McKay had stopped arguing and observed her with interest. She turned the paper around in her hands. "Of course," she whispered.

"What – what is it?" McKay spat out quickly.

"Have you read _The DaVinci Code _– no! _Angels and Demons_," she corrected, "by any chance?" she asked them with a gleam in her eyes.

"Yes," Zelenka nodded eagerly.

"Once, I think maybe," McKay answered, avoiding her gaze. Zelenka frowned at him. "All right, all right, three times," he admitted.

"Why?" Zelenka asked.

"There's another message hidden in here," she revealed, eyes wide, "It was just upside down. You can read the separate messages both ways. The Wraith alphabet lends perfectly to that! I didn't think of it because I didn't have the screenshot! Just the handwritten copy which lost the shape and symmetry of the warning!" she exclaimed.

"Well, what does it say?" Zelenka asked.

"Not much," she grimaced, tilting her head to the side, "that's the unfortunate part. It just says 'We are always watching.'"

"Oh how doom saying and fatalistic of them," McKay commented, rolling his eyes.

Emma raised her eyebrow. "Rodney…Radek, I think they're still keeping tabs on this base," she proposed.

"Nonsense," McKay started, shutting her down, "It's probably just normal Wraith scare tactics."

"Yeah, but like Col. Carter said: the Wraith's biggest downfall is their over confidence," she argued.

"No, the Wraith's biggest downfall is their lack of superior power sources that are necessary for hyperspace travel," he countered. "We have done repeated sweeps of the Atlantis network," he defended, "We found absolutely _no _traces of the Wraith still hanging around in our systems."

"Still, I think she should tell Col. Carter," Zelenka interposed, looking worried.

Emma nodded. "I think I will," she finally said after giving it some thought.

"I'm telling you," McKay started.

"Just let her go," Zelenka interrupted, "Every bit of information is useful," he said more for Emma's benefit than Rodney's.

"Alan, I'm borrowing this," she announced, waving the piece of paper over her head as she headed out of her lab and into the corridors.

"I told you it was DaVinci," McKay muttered to Zelenka, turning back to his tablet.

Zelenka sighed loudly, falling onto his stool.

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><p>Emma was close to Col. Carter's office when she felt two hands encircle her hips from behind. She immediately flinched and pulled away. She turned around to see Ronon looking down at her, perplexed.<p>

"Sorry, you startled me is all," she said quietly, keeping her distance.

"Are we still on for tonight? Seven?" he asked with his usual smirk.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. "I uh I don't think so," she began, her eyes darting back and forth, "I think we'll have to cut back at least for a while. This whole database hacking has been really time consuming," she stated, looking down at the floor.

Ronon shook his head. "Okay," he said simply, "I understand."

She looked back up at him, afraid of the expression that would meet her eyes. It was like looking into the sun as a kid – blinding but too tempting not to. They stood in silence.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked her with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah," she nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, trying to smile. "I have to keep going," she squeaked, gesturing to Carter's office before he could lean in to kiss her or touch her again.

He nodded slowly.

She left him standing alone and looking confused.

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><p>Again, reviews are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you to everyone who does! :)<p> 


	21. Chapter 21: Gone

Hi! Sorry for the delay. So I expanded this chapter, but it's still quite short. Hope you still like it.

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><p>He was sure that she had been avoiding him. Every time he walked into the commissary and she was there, she would quickly finish her food and leave. If they passed each other in the corridors, she would say hello to him, then continue on her way as if she were in some perpetual hurry. And since they discontinued their Spanish lessons at night, he hardly saw her at all during his downtime.<p>

Instead of finding refuge in off-world missions now, he wanted to get them over with as fast as possible. On base, he could see her, if only for a split second, and he was starting to feel like he lived for those split seconds. She was avoiding him, that much was certain, but he didn't know why and had no idea how to fix it.

"Ronon, is something troubling you?" Teyla asked him, peering up into his face as they walked through a vast field to get to the village. There had been rumors that this planet had recently acquired a zero point module but they didn't know what purpose it served. McKay insisted that they check it out. Ronon was convinced that McKay just needed some brief time away from Zelenka, the Wraith database, and the languages lab. Again, his thoughts seemed to inevitably come back to Emma. He noticed Teyla was still looking up at him with concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he shrugged off.

Teyla pursed her lips and nodded.

"How much further?" McKay whined.

"Rodney, have you ever played the quiet game?" Sheppard called back to him.

"The quiet game?" Teyla repeated with interest.

"Yes. I hate it. Always lose," McKay responded, "Why?"

"Because I really need you to shut up," Sheppard answered, "We're not on exactly friendly terms with the natives and we don't want to go –" Suddenly they were surrounded by men holding rudimentary rifles. " – disturbing them," Sheppard finished, lowering his own P-90.

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><p>"Aren't you worried?" Lacey asked her, taking a large bite of her salad.<p>

"Worried about what?" Emma questioned, looking up at her.

"Ronon and the team were due back hours ago. It was supposed to be a simple mission. I guess not," she thought out loud, "Haven't been heard from," she informed her.

"What? I had no idea," Emma told her, panic bubbling in her stomach. "You mean like they can't even establish radio contact?" she asked quickly.

Lacey shook her head. "Nothing," she replied quietly. She paused. "I'm surprised," she finally revealed, "I thought you and Ronon were a thing," she said, squeezing more lemon onto her lettuce greens. "Didn't you say you two almost – "

"_Almost_," Emma quickly stuttered, shaking her head and closing her eyes. As soon as she did, images of that moment played across her mind. She wrenched her eyes open. "And once," she said sternly. "Anyway, that's over," Emma quietly stated, looking back down.

"Hmm pity," Lacey murmured, distracted. "Oh fuck it! I want the curry," she groaned in frustration, standing up to go back in line for more food.

_He'll be fine, _she told herself. _They'll get out of there safely like they always do. McKay will think of something or they'll muscle their way out or another team will be sent to save them. He'll be all right; _she willed it to be true. _Besides, it's over._

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><p>The days that followed were painful. Every time Emma had a moment of downtime, she would see something and it would remind her of him and then she would think about where he was and what he was doing, hoping he was still alive. Even when she wasn't relaxing, it affected her. Her work was slipping too; she was forgetting basic translations she should have known and repeatedly found herself looking up the same kinds of things in Dr. Jackson's notes. Her dreams at night were the worst, though. They were a mix of premonitions of Ronon's slow death, alone, or they were flashbacks to that moment in the corridor when he had beat up the corporal. But in her dreams, he didn't stop with the marine – he continued right on to her. It didn't matter which kind of dream she had, but she continuously woke up during the night in cold sweats, frequently in tears.<p>

After four excruciating days, she heard news that SGA-1 had finally made it back safely. It was all she could think about, but she made sure not to show it. However, the tight knot that had formed in her stomach since Lacey had told her they were missing didn't seem to ease up at all. If anything, it felt like it had constricted even more.

Eventually, the moment she had been simultaneously dreading and longing for arrived. She and Ronon crossed paths. Pretending to be engaged in her reading, she briefly looked up at him, smiled and said "hi." She continued to walk but Ronon stopped dead in his tracks.

"That's it?" he asked expectantly and angrily.

"Yes?" she answered cautiously, playing dumb.

"I just thought…forget it," he snarled, turning his back on her and walking away.

"God dammit!" she whimpered as soon as he was out of earshot, turning on her heel and continuing on her way.

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><p>Please read and review everyone! Thank you so much! :)<p> 


	22. Chapter 22: A Suit to Solve All Problems

A not so serious chapter for you all. I couldn't not write it. Hope it's still good!

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><p>"I need a suit," Ronon announced matter-of-factly, standing in Sheppard's doorway.<p>

"Well hello to you too," Sheppard said, putting down his book, "I've had an okay day, thanks for asking. It's been a little slow around here," he sighed, "but it's a nice change of pace. How have you been lately?"

"I need a suit for this thing tomorrow," he repeated.

"Don't you already have something?" he asked.

"It's not...right," he said, walking in and pulling up a chair.

"Okay…" Sheppard said slowly, "Why do you need one?"

"For the thing tomorrow."

"Yeah no I got that," he nodded, "What's wrong with what you have? I thought you hated Earth clothes…thought you looked 'dumb' in them."

"Emma's been avoiding me," he answered bluntly, "and I know I'll see her there."

"And you wanna look sharp," Sheppard finished, "I mean, I understand, I do," he shrugged, "but what do you want me to do about it? I can't lend you one, you're four inches taller than me and a hell of a lot bigger than me," he reasoned.

"You don't know anyone?" Ronon asked, shaking his head.

"Ronon, you're the biggest guy on this base," he answered, effectively putting an end to their conversation.

He nodded. "Thanks anyway," he grunted, standing up to leave. He walked a few paces.

"Why is she avoiding you?" Sheppard hazarded to ask.

Ronon paused and didn't turn his head. "I don't know." He left the room.

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><p>Sheppard sat thinking for a minute. He looked at his watch and sprang to his feet. He ran to catch up with Ronon. "Come with me!" he called. Ronon followed as they ran to the control room.<p>

Col. Carter was standing talking to General Landry on the other side. "Yes sir. Have a good afternoon," she was concluding when Sheppard and Ronon arrived.

"Wait!" Sheppard yelled, holding to a stitch in his side, "Don't hang up!"

Colonel Carter jerked her head in their direction, eyes widened. "What is it Colonel?" she asked, looking slightly concerned.

"Colonel MacGyver, I have the um the string and tape measurer you asked for," Zelenka said cautiously as he entered the room too, looking confused as he handed the items to Sheppard.

"Thanks Radek," he said, catching his breath. Ronon looked just as confused as Zelenka did.

"Sorry Colonel," he directed to Carter, "General, have I ever bothered you with a trivial favor, sir?" he asked, turning his attention to the computer monitor.

"No, Colonel, why?" he asked from the transmission.

"How many of those can I get?" he asked confidently.

"Let's say you get one," General Landry responded, narrowing his eyes.

"I'd like to cash in on that now, if that's all right sir." He paused. "There is a big team of marine reinforcements coming from Earth tomorrow, am I right?" he verified.

"Yes," the general replied curtly with a nod.

"Ok, I wouldn't be asking for this if they weren't already coming anyway," he began, "But…Ronon here needs a suit for the award ceremony," he explained, lightly hitting Ronon across the chest.

"No, Sheppard, you don't need to do this," Ronon interrupted, "General, it's all right," he quickly said.

"Keep talking Colonel," the general continued in spite of Ronon's interruption.

"Yes sir," Sheppard obliged, "He needs a suit and doesn't have one, so I was hoping someone could get him one and just have it brought through the gate tomorrow."

General Landry pulled out a pen and block of paper. "I'm listening, Colonel," he said expectantly.

"Right," Sheppard cleared his throat, extending the tape measurer to its full length, "Stand still," he instructed to Ronon. "All right, he's…six foot four," Sheppard narrated. He wrapped the string once around Ronon's neck and measured it against the tape measurer, "Neck sixteen and a half…ish," he read, continuing the process, "Chest forty eight, good God you're a big guy," he muttered to Ronon, "Waist thirty nine and a half, seat forty seven, inseam," he got down on one knee, "You'll have to forgive me for this, buddy," he said, looking up at him, "inseam thirty six…and a half," he stood back up, "sleeve thirty seven…thirty eight…thirty sev – thirty seven and a half," he decided, "So he's pretty much a forty eight extra long," he concluded, looking into the computer monitor again.

It was silent in the control room.

"You want a hat, too?" he asked jokingly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"How—why do you know how to do that?" Ronon stammered, looking stunned.

"I uh, I worked in a tuxedo rental shop for two summers when I was a teenager," he replied, looking uncomfortable. "Back to business though," he declared, standing up straight, "Do you want a two piece or three piece?" he asked.

"What?" Ronon asked, looking at Sheppard as though he were speaking a different language.

"Make it a black two piece and a white shirt, General," he relayed, "Now, bow tie or tie? Maybe a pocket square? Cummerbund?" Col. Carter let out a loud laugh she had been holding back, covering her mouth. "You got a favorite color?" he asked.

"No," Ronon replied shortly.

"Get this man a…navy blue tie," he selected, turning around to look at General Landry, "I like navy blue. You need shoes?" he asked.

"I have boots," Ronon stated.

"That's good enough," Sheppard shrugged, looking him up and down.

"Colonel, I want to let you know that the Air Force will not be footing this bill," General Landry warned.

"Put it on my Visa. Account number ending in 9802. You all are creepy and have all of that information on me, don't you?"

"I'm sure we could find it," he nodded, "Anything else we can do for you?"

"No, sir, that'll be it for now. Hope everything is well back on Earth," he waved, "My apologies Colonel," he said to Carter.

"Don't worry about it," she snorted, still trying not to laugh.

The transmission ended and Sheppard and Ronon walked out together. "You didn't have to do that," Ronon shook his head.

"Nonsense," Sheppard grinned, "Just helping out a friend."

"Can I repay you somehow?" he offered.

"I mean…I did buy the whole thing. You'll just have to call me 'Sugar Daddy' from now on," he sighed with a straight face.

"That's not gonna happen," Ronon grumbled.

"Worth a try," Sheppard shrugged as they stopped in the hallway, "Have a good night, buddy," he said with a smile, slapping him on the arm and walking away.

"Hey Sheppard," Ronon called.

Sheppard stopped and turned around.

"Thanks," he nodded to him.

Sheppard lazily saluted back in his direction as he sauntered back to his quarters.

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><p>The team came through the gate the next morning and Sheppard hurried down the steps to meet them. A young marine was holding a garment bag.<p>

"Sir," the marine said standing up straight and saluting him.

"Thanks Sergeant, you're doing your country a great service," he said, taking the bag from him and running away again.

He reached Ronon's quarters and knocked to no answer. No one was there. He went to the sparring ring and found him there with Teyla. "Delivery for a Mr. Dex," he announced as he walked into the room.

"What is it?" Teyla asked.

"It's a suit," Sheppard replied with a smirk. "Yeah, I'm going to need you to sign for that sir," he murmured to Ronon.

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><p>Please read and review! Thank you everyone! :D<p> 


	23. Chapter 23: Confessions

Ooookaaaaay. Long chapter. Here it is. I hope you enjoy!

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><p>Emma sat on Lacey's bed as Lacey completed the finishing touches of her makeup.<p>

"Just suck it up, let go, and let it happen," Lacey sighed, running mascara along her long lashes.

"I can't do that," Emma argued.

"Of course you can!" Lacey exclaimed, turning around, "Your logic is circular: you're saying you can't let go because you can't let go."

"Or _your_ logic is circular," Emma countered.

"Touchée, madam," Lacey hissed, turning back to the mirror. "He makes you happy. Let yourself be happy. I don't get what your problem is."

Emma didn't say anything and stared down at her hands in her lap.

"My mum always told me to do what made me happy, no matter what. And I do. Plants and men make me happy," she smiled, "So I study plants and do men," she said as she grabbed a few condoms from her nightstand and shoved them into her clutch. "Mother knows best."

"Who are those for?" Emma asked, standing up and following Lacey.

"Evan's supply ran out," Lacey answered.

"Wait, you and Major Lorne are still together?"

"Yes," she replied, pretending to be offended, "I didn't want to just…what's the phrase… 'hit it and quit it.'" The words sounded completely foreign to her British tongue.

"You make anything sound classy," Emma giggled, lightly jabbing her in the ribs.

"I like him," Lacey smiled, "And he likes me. It's like a Lifetime movie," she said dramatically.

Emma looked back at her and smiled, too. "Of course you're wearing black," Emma observed.

"Black looks good on me," Lacey said proudly, her head held high.

"Anything looks good on you," Emma qualified.

"This is true," Lacey agreed, then shot Emma a playful smirk. Her eyes widened. "_Lady in Black_! That could be the name of my autobiographical Lifetime movie."

"_Botanist in Black_," Emma suggested.

"Ooh, I like it," Lacey cooed in her low, sultry voice.

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><p>Ronon met Sheppard, dressed in his cadet blues, at the top of the stairs. "Look at that," he said proudly, surveying the new suit, "Not too bad. Fits well. I like the vest, too," he nodded, looking at Ronon's own vest underneath the coat. "Hey where's the tie?" he asked.<p>

"I couldn't button the neck," Ronon answered.

"Damn," Sheppard whispered to himself, "Rookie mistake."

"Teyla didn't like it," he smirked, telling the truth.

"Ah, Teyla, ruining my artistic vision," he ruminated, "So, have you seen her yet?" he enquired, wasting no time.

"She's over there," Ronon indicated, gesturing down the stairs and across the room with his chin.

"In the light blue?" he asked.

Ronon nodded.

"No time like the present," Sheppard sighed, walking down the stairs by himself, "I'm going to go talk to _her_," he announced, his eyes on a woman in red.

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><p>She laid her eyes on him on the stairway landing, talking to Colonel Sheppard. Her heart started beating rapidly as she wondered when he arrived and how long he had been there. He had never looked more handsome than he currently did in his black suit, leather vest, and partially unbuttoned white shirt. The suit contrasted so starkly with his normal mode of dress, dreads, and personality, she at first expected the combination to look comical, but she was proved wrong. His head bowed in her direction and she nearly pulled a muscle in her neck turning away from him. Lacey was next to her, standing on the tips of her toes, scanning the crowd for Major Lorne.<p>

"I wonder where Dr. McKay and Dr. Keller are going," she mused to herself. "Oh," she gasped, "He's coming this way," she whispered.

"Major Lorne?" Emma asked.

"No, Ronon," she whispered again.

Her stomach did an uncomfortable backflip. "I need to leave," Emma declared, feeling like she would throw up any second.

Lacey grabbed her wrist. "No. Stop running and just face it," she sternly reprimanded, her icy blue eyes piercing into Emma's. "Say whatever you have to say to him. God! Get it over with."

Emma stopped in her tracks and nodded slowly, taking a steadying breath in. She felt a warm hand on the small of her back and she turned around to look at him. "Ronon," she greeted, "What is it?" she asked in a whisper.

"Can I talk to you alone?" he asked.

Time stopped. She could hear the gears in her mind creaking. Sadness clouded his hazel eyes as they looked down at her. The heat from his hand on her back was radiating through her body. "Sure," she nodded with a hoarse voice.

Together they walked out of the room in silence. Emma glanced back and saw Major Lorne making his way to Lacey, kissing her cheek as their hands connected.

"How are you?" he asked awkwardly as they walked.

"Fine," she answered shortly.

Silence.

He led her onto one of the outdoor balconies overlooking the ocean. "How have you been?" she timidly asked back.

Silence again.

"What is it?" she spoke again, knowing the answer.

"You've been avoiding me," he bluntly accused.

"Yes, I have been," she answered honestly.

"Why?" he asked firmly.

"It's just…us…we're not working out," she stammered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, shaking his head with incomprehension.

"I don't think you and I are…are good for each other," she lied.

"Why not?" he continued.

She turned her back to him, looking out at the sea, and muttered something about personalities being incompatible, rushing things between them, and not having time. She couldn't bear to look into his eyes.

"That's bullshit!" he shouted, laughing a terribly bitter laugh.

"Just let it go," she whimpered.

"No," he growled.

Without thinking, she lashed out. "I can't!" she shrieked, rounding on him. He was completely taken aback and took a step backwards from her.

She turned her head again and felt tears stinging her eyes as she fixated on the breaking waves, her back to him. "I—I can't—" she repeated resolutely.

She heard his footsteps slowly approach her. He laid his suit jacket over her shoulders.

"I can't fall for another guy like you," she said, silent tears now falling uncontrollably down her cheeks.

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"The big, strong, angry type, I just can't! I can't let myself get trapped in another situation like that!" she shouted at the waves.

"Another? What are you talking about?" he pressed on, trying to keep his tone level.

"I saw you hit Cpl. Hanson a few weeks ago and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind," she confessed, wiping the tears from her face.

"Yeah, well he deserved it," he argued.

"I don't care," she shook her head, "I can't do it again."

"Again? What are you saying?" he asked, his voice raised.

"Don't yell at me," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, lowering his voice again. "Emma, please just tell me what's going on," he begged.

The floodgates broke. Tears fell in torrents and she couldn't hold it back anymore.

Ronon suddenly felt like he had delved too deep. He didn't know what to do, other than watch her, helpless.

She finally gained the ability to speak through her tears. "I've been with so many guys like you. Men who lose their tempers quickly and I've always been on the receiving end of it. I've been in more abusive relationships than I care to admit, because I don't understand how or why it keeps happening to me!" she confessed, her entire body heaving with each labored and tearful breath, "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me that I keep letting this happen?" she asked angrily, trying to swallow. "I've been…_hit_ so many times. I've been _kicked_ so many times. I've been _choked_ more times than anyone should be and I just don't want it to happen anymore!" she yelled, breaking down into sobs. "That's why…I have this scar…" she revealed through ragged breaths, holding tightly to her wrist as the memory replayed vividly in her head, "One guy hit me with a beer bottle and it shattered and he just kept hitting me with it and I put my arms over my face to protect myself and I started to bleed and he just kept—" she wheezed loudly, impeding her speech. She reached into her clutch and pulled out her inhaler, taking a breath in, then wept, unable to speak anymore. She covered her face with her hands, ashamed that Ronon was witnessing her like this.

Ronon immediately took her into his arms and pulled her to his chest, running his hand up and down her back. His temper was always something he had never had control over, but he also had never hit a defenseless woman. On Sateda, domestic abuse like the kind she experienced was both rare and considered a capital offense. Apparently, things were different on Earth. "Emma," he spoke quietly, "I can't promise I'll never lose my temper," he began, "but I can promise that I will never lose it with you. You will _never_ see that side of me. I would never do that to you; I could never do that to you."

"I like you so much," she admitted, still crying into his chest, "but I've been told that before and I can't keep believing it." She looked up over his shoulder. "That's the cycle," she hissed bitterly, "That's the vicious cycle. First you walk on eggshells trying to escape conflict – t-to escape a beating," she yelped, "and when that doesn't work…it never works," she muttered, "you get hit, and then he comes apologizing and begging at your feet saying how sorry he is and how bad he feels and then it starts all over again and then I end up getting hurt again and again and ag – "

"Please, Emma," he whispered, interrupting her, "I'm not like those men, I promise. You have to believe me," he begged. "I won't lie; I can be like that. I can be like that in battle situations or when other people's lives are being threatened or when my life is in danger, but that's because I've been trained to be like that. I swear I will never act that way towards you," by now, she was staring up at him and he was looking her square in the eyes. "I've been betrayed before by people who were close to me, too, and – and I would never want anyone to feel the way I did … especially not you." He paused, studying the features of her face. "You have to trust me," he said in a low voice as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I have to protect myself," she whispered, starting to shake. He steadied her with his forearms. "You have to understand. _Please_ understand," she cried.

"Let _me_ protect you," he countered, speaking softly.

"Why are you trying so hard?" she asked weakly, shaking her head.

"Because…because I care for you a lot more than you realize," he said honestly, "I know I don't show it, but…" He stopped midsentence. "Do you hear that?" he asked, completely changing in attitude.

She sniffed and listened carefully. A loud humming sound was getting louder and higher pitched. Suddenly, with a flash of dark purple light, a small aircraft whined directly over their heads.

"That's a Wraith dart," Ronon affirmed as he pulled his gun out from the waistband of his trousers, springing into action and taking her hand in his. She stopped him and he looked back at her to find her pulling her loud and clumsy shoes off. They sprinted back inside to the others, only to be stopped in their tracks. Several Wraith had everyone in the base surrounded in what looked like a hostage situation. Ronon and Emma turned around, unseen, and sprinted down another corridor and into a transporter.

"Where are we going?" she enquired, her face still red, but no longer crying.

"Armory," he stated, pressing the screen, "Can you shoot a gun?" he asked.

She sniffed again. "I'm from Texas. I've been shooting coyotes with a .22 gauge since I was seven," she replied.

"I'll take that as a yes?"

The doors reopened.

"You can take that as a hell yes."

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><p>Please read and review! Thank you, everyone! :)<p> 


	24. Chapter 24: Encounter

Hi! Sorry for the delay! Had to add a bunch in here and my day was really busy. I apologize if there are any mistakes I glazed over. Hope you like it!

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><p>They reached the armory and as Ronon was looking for the right ammunition, Emma found a uniform and boots to rapidly change into.<p>

"Ok," he began, "This is a P9—" he stopped midsentence as he caught a glimpse of Emma's bare torso. She was changing directly in front of him and wasn't wearing a shirt when he turned around. A long horizontal scar spanning her lower stomach that he had either never seen or never really noticed caught his eye in the bright light. "D–do you want me to look away?" he asked, pulling his eyes to her face.

"I don't care," she replied dryly.

He turned his back to her again, searching the shelves for grenades and more cartridges. She threw her dress and shoes in a corner and opened her clutch to find her inhaler. She took a deep breath of it in and put it in her pocket.

Ronon handed her a gun and several cartridges. "Safety's still on," he told her as they moved out.

"Do we have a plan yet?" she asked.

"I'm working on it. Just stay with me," he instructed, taking her hand again.

* * *

><p>"Ronon, where are we going?" she hissed.<p>

"Control room," he responded shortly.

"Why?" she asked.

"The Wraith'll wanna get their hands on our ZPM and the hyperdrive research done by the Ancients," he explained in a raspy voice, looking around the corner, his body shielding Emma's. He took a few steps forward, carefully testing to see if their path was clear.

"'The Wraith's biggest downfall is their lack of superior power sources that are necessary for hyperspace travel,'" she whispered to herself, echoing something McKay had said a week and a half earlier. "Ronon look out!" she screamed as two unseen Wraith emerged from niches in the wall. Before she could think anymore about it, she had put a bullet straight through the forehead of one of them while Ronon aimed his blaster at the other.

He stood over the Wraith that Emma had shot, staring down at the circular wound directly between its eyes. "Damn," he grunted, looking behind in her direction. "Thanks."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "No problem," she breathed. "I still don't get why we're going to the control room," she continued as they picked up their brisk pace again.

"There are already plenty of guards stationed by the ZPM. You and I alone can't take on however many Wraith there might be in the whole city, so we need to get a message out to the Daedalus to tell them to beam down more reinforcements or something," he clarified.

"The Daedalus is in orbit around the planet," she reminded him, "Isn't it a safe bet to say that they already know about the Wraith?" she challenged.

"If they already knew, we'd know," he answered definitively.

Emma cocked her head to the side in agreement. "Good point," she sighed. "Control room," she repeated. "Wait, won't they expect this? Won't it be heavily guarded?" she asked him.

"Chance we'll have to take," he grumbled. "You can handle 'em," he said, smirking down at her.

* * *

><p>They entered the control room. It was eerily quiet, and although it was their only option, something didn't feel right. They met no other resistance on their way and no Wraith were in the control room.<p>

"This is a trap," she muttered softly to herself, looking around the room.

"What?" Ronon said absentmindedly, not taking his eyes away from the control panel.

"Ronon, are you sure you shouldn't watch the door and I'll send the message?" she suggested.

"You're right," he whispered.

But just as the words had left his mouth, Emma was grabbed from behind by a Wraith. She screamed.

"Let her go!" Ronon yelled, gun pointed at the Wraith who in turn pulled out its own weapon.

"Ronon, send it!" she yelled back to him.

Without hesitation, he reached for the control panel, but the Wraith shot him in the chest. Ronon went down, temporarily losing motor control but still retaining consciousness. He watched the Wraith force Emma on her back onto one of the consoles. She hit him in the face with her elbow, then kicked him away, temporarily incapacitating him. She tried to make her way to Ronon, but was grabbed again by the Wraith. He slammed her against the wall, one forearm over her neck so she couldn't move and couldn't breathe. He ripped part of her shirt and plunged his hand onto her chest. She screamed in agony.

Ronon wanted to yell, to run to her and stop it, to save her, but he could barely feel a tingling in his fingers and nothing else. That's when he noticed that nothing was happening to Emma. It appeared that she was resistant for some strange reason.

The Wraith yanked its hand away from her chest, its face wrought with fury and confusion, and brought it to her throat. At first she struggled hard against him, but he was strangling her and any scream she tried to emit became stifled. Her body began to go limp and her attempts to break free of the Wraith's grip faded. Her eyelids drooped as she slowly lost consciousness.

Ronon had control of part of his arm. He set his gun to stun, then, with next to no accuracy, aimed. He hit the Wraith, but he also hit Emma. She fell to the floor with a loud thud, completely unconscious. He had to wait longer before he could fully move again; how long, he didn't know but the short moments felt like drawn out hours as he stared at Emma's sleeping face and limp, crumpled form. As soon as he could, he jumped to his feet, killed the Wraith immediately, punched in the code to send out the message, then ran to Emma. He put a hand on her face and felt a faint pulse in her neck. Stationary tears dotted her cheeks. "Emma, please," he spoke quietly, kissing her forehead. He looked down at the feeding wounds and saw that they were bleeding profusely. He pulled his vest off of his body, then unbuttoned his crisp white shirt and used it as a compress, pressing it hard against her wounds. With ease, he picked her up to rush her to the infirmary as he carried her in his arms. He turned on his earpiece. "Medical emergency, Emma Rogers has been fed upon," he said as steadily as possible, "I'm coming to the infirmary."

A shape stepped around the corner and into the control room. Ronon pointed his gun at the intruder.

"Whoa! Don't shoot!" McKay said quickly, holding his hands out in surrender.

"McKay," Ronon growled, letting his blaster fall limp in his hand under Emma's knees. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

"I came to send a message to the Daedalus. Let them know – "

"Already done," Ronon stated, brushing past him, desperate to get Emma help.

"Wh-what happened to her?" he asked, pointing at her.

"She was fed on," he answered brusquely, "Look, reinforcements should be coming any time now. I have to get her help," he said, gesturing down to the young woman in his grasp. "Guard this room," he demanded, sliding Emma's P-90 over to McKay with his foot.

McKay opened his mouth to speak.

"Do it," Ronon snarled.

"I was just going to say that Jen is in the infirmary right now," he said softly.

Ronon grunted in comprehension and ran as fast as he could with Emma's limp body outstretched in his arms, begging her to hold on.

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><p>"What happened?" Dr. Keller asked anxiously as he ran into the infirmary with Emma in his arms, glancing at the bloodstained dress shirt crumpled over her chest. Keller, like everyone else who had been interrupted but avoided the Wraith, was still wearing her cocktail dress with her white lab coat over it.<p>

"There was a Wraith," he explained as he gently laid her onto a bed, "It came behind her, stunned me, and started feeding on her, but it didn't work. It got mad and tried to choke her. I stunned both of them then killed the Wraith. It was stupid," he groaned, rubbing his forehead, "She was barely alive to begin with. I shouldn't have shot," he shook his head.

Dr. Keller nodded. She touched her fingers to Emma's wrist. "No pulse," she narrated, "CPR!" she instructed.

"What?" Ronon asked in disbelief, "She—her heart was still beating just before we left." Panic washed over him.

The initial attempts at reviving her proved unsuccessful. "Defib!" Dr. Keller called, throwing Ronon's now red and white shirt aside. A nurse brought her the automatic defibrillator. Dr. Keller cut the rest of Emma's ripped shirt off of her, rapidly applied the gel pads and pressed the paddles to them. "Clear!" Peaks shot onto the life signs monitor. Ronon sank into a chair, letting out a sigh of relief. Dr. Keller pulled out a penlight and checked Emma's pupils. "She's still unconscious," she said quietly.

"What? Can you fix it?" he asked, sitting up straight.

"No," Dr. Keller replied with resignation, "We just have to hope she wakes up on her own…eventually. I need someone to hook up an IV and bandage Dr. Rogers' chest!" she ordered.

"Eventually, what do you mean eventually?" he questioned angrily. "Like a coma?"

"A state of unconsciousness is not considered a coma until the person has been out for six or more hours," she explained firmly. "Look…Ronon, can you stand guard at the door? The city is still under siege and it's only a matter of time before the Wraith find their way here," she asked desperately, her voice softening somewhat.

"Jen – " he began.

"And please…don't go running off," she interrupted, "There are plenty of capable military out there. We need you here," she requested, looking up into his eyes.

He stared down into her pale face and nodded. He took one last look at Emma, then strode over to the infirmary door, gun at the ready.

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><p>Thank you, everyone! Please read and review!<p> 


	25. Chapter 25: Bedside

Here's another! Hope you like it! (Again, very sleepy – I apologize.) Only 4 more chapters left, I think.

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><p>Ronon stared at her, looking exactly as she did two days earlier. It was strange. She still looked like she was going to a party. Her hair and makeup were done, but instead of wearing a ball gown, she was wearing a hospital gown. To him, it almost looked like she had merely spontaneously fallen asleep from a night out. He looked at her perfectly manicured hand and the IV injected into it, then took it in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. He thought back to the few moments they had had together just before the attack. He could still feel her small frame shaking with sobs as he held her to him. The image of her bright green eyes, full of tears, looking up at him was seared into his memory.<p>

_Scientists and soldiers alike carried the injured into the infirmary. All of the pale faces were a blur to him. No one in particular stuck out in his mind though he was sure he recognized over half of them. _

"_Lorne!" Ronon called out, still watching the doorway as Lorne rushed in, supporting a tall woman against him. Long curtains of dark hair covered her face, her injured body doubled over._

"_What is it?" he answered in a strained voice. _

"_What's the situation out there?" he asked urgently._

"_Marine reinforcements were beamed down and they surrounded the Wraith that were guarding us," he explained, staring fixedly at the woman he had just entrusted to a nurse. "Took them by surprise, got the upper hand and we were able to get the injured out of there. We're still trying to flush out the rest running loose throughout the city," he continued._

"_The ZPM?" he pressed on._

"_Secure, last I heard," he informed him. "I'm going back out there to help the reinforcements," he stated, heading to the door to leave. "Coming?" he frowned expectantly when Ronon didn't immediately follow._

_Ronon caught Dr. Keller's eye. "Go," she mouthed to him, nodding._

_He glanced back at Emma one last time and followed Lorne to join Sheppard in the hunt. _

"You love her…don't you?" a quiet voice behind him asked, pulling him back to the present.

He turned around to see Dr. Keller and didn't respond at first. "It's only been three months," he rumbled as an answer.

"It doesn't matter," she challenged, shaking her head, "I…I see the way you look at her," she pressed on, taking a step nearer.

"What do you mean, Jen?" he asked, his voice low.

"There's…something in your eyes when you look at her. It's like you can't get enough of her." She paused. "It's not…it's not like how you used to look at me," she chanced timidly.

He looked over at her.

"You looked at me with…longing or…nostalgia," she continued, "But you look at her and I can just tell you love her," she finished, her conviction growing with every word.

Ronon still hadn't let go of Emma's hand. It was cold and clammy. He suddenly wondered if she was warm enough, if she had enough blankets. His voice came out raspy and barely audible when he finally spoke. "You're right," he admitted.

Dr. Keller gently put a hand on his shoulder. "I promise we're trying everything we can to get her out of this. Get some sleep," she insisted, "It's been nearly two days."

He nodded slowly and settled back into his chair to rest, still holding onto Emma's hand.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" he asked Dr. Keller as she injected something into Emma's IV.<p>

"We're trying to figure out why the Wraith couldn't feed on her," she said, "We've done all kinds of scans on her DNA, but nothing's showing up."

Ronon sat in silence for a moment as Dr. Keller changed the dressings on Emma's chest, then turned her on her side.

"Why'd you turn her like that?" he asked again.

"Oh," she uttered, "Bedsores – don't want her to get them," she simply explained.

He nodded and stared down at the fresh bandages across her pale chest. "She has this illness…" he said slowly, "It makes her cough."

"Asthma?" she frowned, pulling out Emma's medical chart.

"Yeah, that's it," he confirmed, "She took two hits off her inhaler that night," he recounted, "Once when I was…with her before and again right before we set out for the control room. Maybe there's something in the medicine," he shrugged.

"Wait really?" Dr. Keller asked, astounded, "But…that would be groundbreaking," she breathed.

"Will it help her?" he asked.

She paused. "No," she said softly, "If this turns out to be true, then it could mean that we could make every human resistant to Wraith feeding…at least for a while. But…she's past that point," she sadly explained.

"How long can you keep her like this?" he asked, his eyes following the length of the tangled tubes and wires of the ventilator attached to her.

"Indefinitely, theoretically. But…it's not a life worth living, Ronon, you know that," she said honestly.

He nodded.

"Look," she started, "I want to let you know that if she wakes up – "

"When," Ronon corrected sternly.

She took in a deep breath. "_When_ she wakes up," she resumed, "She'll have some serious memory issues."

"What kind of issues?" he questioned, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"She should retain her long term memory, but she may not remember events close to the trauma or she might have trouble making new memories for a few weeks after waking up," she revealed.

Ronon said nothing.

"I'll start running some tests on the asthma medication," she whispered decisively, leaving them.

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><p>Thank you thank you, everyone! Please read and review!<p> 


	26. Chapter 26: Awakening

On the shorter side! Getting close to the end!

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><p>Her eyes fluttered open and the bright light from the windows filtered in, making her squint. She looked around and from what she could see, realized she was in the infirmary. Everything was blurry. Someone must have taken her contacts out. She looked down at the IV in her hand and opened her eyes wider. "Excuse me," she called weakly.<p>

A nurse came running to her side. "Dr. Keller!" she shouted, "She's awake again!"

Dr. Keller came quickly. "Emma, you're awake," she stated, "You're _coherent_," she observed, sounding a bit surprised.

Emma nodded, dry swallowing.

"You were in a coma for nearly a week," she told her, "You've been in and out of consciousness for the past day or so."

She didn't say anything for a minute. Vague, disjointed memories flashed in bits and pieces as she tried to make sense of them. Her stomach plummeted, thinking of Ronon stiff and unmoving on the floor of the control room. "Where's Ronon?" she asked feebly.

Dr. Keller smiled. "He left for his first mission since the attack this morning. He should be back in five or six days," she assured her.

She nodded, relief washing over her. "What happened?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"You were a total badass is what happened," a familiar British accent said from a few feet away.

"Dr. Peters, you should really be in bed still," the nurse chastised.

"Oh I'm fine," she insisted, brushing her words away with her hand, "You and Ronon went to the control room and sent an emergency message to the Daedalus. It reached them and they beamed in reinforcements, taking back the city," she smiled, a hand on her hip.

"Why was I in a coma? I – I was fed on, wasn't I?" she recalled, "Why am I not dead?" she questioned.

"You, missy, have helped the lovely med team here discover a way to temporarily block Wraith feedage," Lacey explained.

"How?" she winced.

"Your asthma medication has something in it that prevents the Wraith from successfully feeding."

"It's still a conjecture," Dr. Keller interjected, "We can't be sure until we complete thorough tests and trials. We've never seen this before because most of the SGA teams that…come in contact with the Wraith," she euphemized, "are military; the armed forces generally weed out people with asthma with their physical fitness requirements."

"So the Wraith did try to feed on me?" Emma clarified.

"Yes, we found traces of your blood and your medication in that particular Wraith's bloodstream, but the process didn't work. Your medicine blocks the transference of several Wraith enzymes apparently necessary for the feeding process. The Wraith still tried to kill you anyway and Ronon shot. Unfortunately, you were very weak as it was and caught a blast from his gun. You slipped into a coma even though it was set to stun."

She nodded slowly. "Casualties?" she asked cautiously.

"We lost a few marines," Keller said somberly, "And a few serious injuries. Speaking of which, I have a few people to attend to," she remembered, bowing her head. There was silence as Dr. Keller left to tend to another patient.

"Are my glasses here?" Emma squinted.

Lacey handed her the pair on the table next to her. "Ronon hoped you might need them. He trusted you wouldn't mind that he went into your room," she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

"No, that's fine," she said quietly, slipping her glasses on. "Wait, why are you here?" she asked suddenly.

"Oh, you know…a Wraith was threatening to feed on Evan so I stepped in," she said nonchalantly, "Apparently Mr. Wraith thought I looked too peaky and wanted Evan instead, so he pushed me out of the way. Two broken ribs," she blinked.

"Not a fan of English cuisine, huh?" she joked with a small grin. "Major Lorne is all right though, isn't he?" she verified.

Lacey nodded, smiling.

"Are – are those from him?" Emma asked, glancing at a vase full of wildflowers and ferns next to what must have been Lacey's empty bed.

Lacey shrugged, pretending to not love being doted on this way. "Write it into my Lifetime movie," she smirked.

* * *

><p>"Incoming wormhole," the late night technician narrated, "Receiving Teyla's IDC."<p>

"Lower the shield," Colonel Carter nodded, arms crossed over her chest.

SGA teams one and two returned through the gate looking haggard and worn but composed. The mission must have been a success. She made her way down to them.

"How'd it go?" she asked keenly.

Sheppard sighed. "Wasn't easy, but we did it," he answered, "Took out the hive ship from within," he explained. "We saw one dart make a run for it, but we shot it down."

"We think," Major Lorned shrugged.

"We're pretty sure," Sheppard winced.

"All right … good work," she commended them, "Get some sleep," she added, "You all look like you're about ready to fall over."

"Yes ma'am," Sheppard said gratefully.

"We'll debrief tomorrow at 13:00 hours," she said. "Ronon, can I talk to you?" she requested as he walked away.

"What is it?" he asked, turning back around.

"Dr. Rogers woke up about six days ago, just a few hours after you left," she told him quietly.

"What?" he asked urgently, "Is she—is she ok?"

"She's having a few memory issues," she revealed hesitantly, "She's remembered most of the attack, but it takes a few tries for her to remember new information, although she's been getting better as the week goes on." She paused. "She's in her quarters now," she informed him.

He turned away without another word and ran at breakneck pace to her room.

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><p>Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing!<p> 


	27. Chapter 27: Rain Check

Ok only one more chapter after this. Sorry it took me so very long! I was really busy and didn't have time to finesse this chapter until now. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and understand the feelings that I wanted to convey here through what I included and what I left out.

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><p>She sat in her dark room with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the wall as thunder faintly rolled in the distance. Small droplets of water beat out a gentle, constant rhythm against the Atlantean walls. Closing her eyes, she finally stopped trying to piece her day of partially failed memories together. She let it all go and just listened. Inhaling deeply, she stood up again and walked to her window to open it. A soft gust of cool, humid breeze met her face and she smiled faintly at the familiar smell. She leaned on the windowsill and gazed out across the open waters, occasional distant flickers of lightning catching her attention.<p>

She had no idea how long she stood there, entranced by the falling rain, but could have easily stood there all night. Her door slid open almost noiselessly. "Emma," she heard a low, gruff voice say.

She turned around to meet her visitor as a familiar swelling in her chest nearly overcame her. "Ronon. Hey," she smiled, looking down self-consciously at her pajamas and crossing her arms over her chest. He entered fully into the room and slowly made his way towards her. She gestured to her bed, "I was just about to go to—" She awkwardly uncrossed her arms as he took her to his chest and brought both of his hands to the sides of her face and neck, cutting her off with a powerful kiss. His arms wrapped around her body and without another word, he pulled his lips away from hers and kissed her eyebrows and her forehead, like he couldn't get enough of her. "Ronon," she managed to utter in a small voice as if questioning him.

"I never got to tell you how beautiful you looked the night of the…" He stopped short and combed his fingers through a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear, his eyes quickly scanning her face as though he were looking at her for the last time. His voice dropped even lower. "I thought we had lost you. I—I thought _I_ had lost you," he stammered.

"I'm fine now," she smiled sweetly, laying a hand on his cheek and running her fingers along his hairline.

"I haven't been that scared in years," he admitted softly.

She stared up into his hazel eyes. The normal twinkle in them was gone and was instead replaced by worry and guilt.

"Look, I don't want to lose you like that…I…" He glanced away for a split second, then looked back at her. "I can't lose you like that, Emma," he confessed.

She continued to trace the outline of his forehead with her fingers. "I'm right here," she firmly assured him, "I'm right here, in your arms. You don't have to worry," she told him, kissing his jaw and resting her head between his shoulder and neck.

He exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," he growled.

"Why?" she asked incredulously, looking back into his face.

"I said I'd never hurt you." He paused and avoided her eyes. "I thought I had _killed_ you," he managed to say, "I was stupid to have shot," he snarled, shaking his head.

"Ronon, that Wraith was already killing me," she stressed, "I would have died within the minute had you not. You didn't hurt me, you saved my life," she said earnestly, pressing her cheek to his.

He felt her eyelashes on his face. "I never want to hurt you," he said in barely a whisper, "but…" He trailed off. He was holding her so close to him, so tightly that she could barely move.

She looked up into his eyes again and he touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. "I believe you," she finally said. This time she kissed him, pressing her body against his and tightly wrapping her arms around him. She tenderly pulled her lips away from his and held onto him, feeling the most at peace she had in weeks. His heart beat steadily next to her ear.

She reached down to his wrist and stroked the metal fastenings on his leather wrist guards then began to slowly unbuckle one of them, staring at his large and sturdy hands. "Stay," she whispered as she pulled it past his fingers. After setting the first one down, her hands moved to his other tattooed forearm. At first he seemed to stand paralyzed and unmoving, but after a short while, his lips wandered down to her neck. She nearly collapsed against his hard chest, her knees buckling once she felt his warm mouth against her soft skin. Ronon heard her let out a quiet breath of satisfaction and he smirked to himself. Emma brought her hands to his chest and unbuckled the leather strap that kept his sword against his back. Ensuring that she had laid it down carefully, her hands then slid down his front, past his chest and his stomach, to his hips. A chill ran up the back of his neck and he watched as Emma unfastened the clasp on his weapons holster. Once that too was on the floor, she finally looked up into his eyes. Every exterior trace of the warrior had been taken away and now the man who stood in front of her was simply a friend that she intimately trusted.

Together, they took a few steps to her bed and collapsed onto it. Ronon's body was weak with exhaustion from the long and grueling mission, but he needed this more than rest. He needed to be with her. He propped her up against her pillows and leaned over her body, his lips returning to her neck. She kissed along his jawline, gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt and drawing him closer.

From her neck he whispered "Are you sure you're strong enough to do this?"

"I think so," she answered breathily, her mind even cloudier than it was earlier, "Yes."

He stared straight into her eyes, took her Oxford University sweatshirt off of her and threw it aside. He stopped. The feeding wounds on her chest had not fully healed. She looked down at them, then back to him. "They—they'll probably scar," she said quietly, her breast heaving. He moved so that the moonlight hit him in just the right way and pulled his own shirt over his head. They locked eyes just as Emma noticed the deep scars on his chest from the very same wound. She laid a finger gently on top of one of them and traced the path of the handprint. Without any more hesitation, Ronon guided Emma to straddle his hips, his hands grabbing tightly onto her thighs. Slowly, he brought his lips to each of her puncture wounds, kissing around them against her chest. He slipped her tank top off of her and discarded it, then pushed her bra straps down off her shoulders. He moved his hands to her back, steadying her, pressing hard on the small of her back against him. He gathered all of her long red hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck. She felt a small moan escape her lips as her head fell forward. The rain outside pounded louder as it fell on the pier. A roll of thunder echoed across the ocean.

He lowered her onto the bed, flat on her back, and she took a deep breath in, the salt water filling her lungs. He stood up and took his worn leather pants off, letting them fall to the floor with everything else. He positioned himself on top of her and their lips met. Emma closed her eyes and smiled as pervasive warmth coursed down her whole body, one hand on his bicep, the other clutching onto the cord of the necklace he wore every day. He felt like every kiss from her was a long drink of water that he needed to stay awake – to stay alive.

Her hips bucked softly against his and he felt for her cotton shorts, pulling them down her legs and throwing them to the foot of the bed. They were completely still for a moment, looking into each other's faces as the sounds of their heavy breathing and the storm intermingled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he touched his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again, this time breathing in his reassuring scent. He ran his hand down her body along her ribs, her waist, and then her hips and parted her legs. She was suddenly aware that all of his weight was hovering just over her. With a quiet gasp, she felt him slide into her and she clutched to his back for support.

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><p>She was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving up and down in her bra as he quietly growled one last time before pulling out of her and falling onto his side. Her mind reeled as she stared at the wall behind him. Neither one of them said anything for nearly five minutes as they lay in the same tight embrace, his arm around her waist, her arms around his shoulders, and his face nuzzling her neck. She finally moved, bringing her arms to herself, tucking one of her legs between his, and nestled up to him, burying her face in his sweaty chest. Just as she did, she sat bolt upright again. "Emma?" he questioned, looking up at her. She found the clasp of her bra and slid it off, throwing it onto the floor next to her shirt. She returned to her spot and he wrapped his arm around her, leisurely running his fingers through her long red hair. She loved the way he smelled, even if he was drenched with sweat. There was something about it that she couldn't place, that she felt like she had never smelled before except for on the coat that he had let her borrow months ago. Like that, they fell asleep together. They woke up the next morning in exactly the same position, his hand still halfway through her long tresses, her head still burrowed into his chest.<p>

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><p>Thank you so much! Please read and review! :)<p> 


	28. Chapter 28: Beauty and the Beast

Ok, this is the last chapter! I'll miss writing this story. However, I do have a sequel in the works. I put in a lot of loose ends and clues in this fic that will be answered in the next one, but unfortunately, I'm going to be gone for quite some time after tomorrow and won't be able to write. But when I get back, I'll try my best to finish the sequel, so keep an eye out!

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><p>"You hungry?" he grunted as she lightly stroked his chest with her fingers.<p>

"Oh my God, I thought you'd never ask," she moaned loudly.

He laughed and she stared up at him.

"I love your smile," she observed slowly as she touched the three small birthmarks under his eye, realizing that he didn't do it much, but when he did it was almost always around her. He continued to smile back at her, but didn't say anything. She rolled onto her back and looked at her watch on the nightstand. "11:30," she stated.

Ronon grunted in comprehension, then stood up and put on his clothes from the day before. She sat in bed with the sheet over her chest, tying her hair up. She reached into the drawer next to her bed and pulled out underwear and a bra and slipped them on. She stood up and Ronon came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her hips and kissing her shoulder as she looked into her closet. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt and figured that if anyone had a problem with her not wearing a uniform, they were just going to have to deal with it.

"Emma," Ronon started.

"Hm?" she responded as she slipped on a pair of shoes.

"Carter said you were having problems with your memory," he said cautiously.

"She's right," she nodded.

He nodded slowly, looking blindly over her shoulder.

She cocked her head, searching his face. "I remember last night if that's what you're wondering," she giggled.

He looked back at her with a smirk.

"Ronon Dex, you are anything but forgettable," she sighed, leaning into him and interweaving her fingers with his. They walked hand in hand to the commissary together and when they arrived, weekend brunch was in full swing. As soon as they entered, the decibel level decreased and people stared at them. Some looked confused, others were smiling. The friendliest, most extroverted woman and the severest, most aloof man in the city were holding hands with one another. After getting their food, they sat down together.

"Why are people staring?" she asked him, glancing over at the table to their left.

"Don't know," he answered briefly.

"Yes you do," she smirked.

He smirked back. "Maybe they're just glad to see you up and well," he shrugged.

She looked suspiciously at him and narrowed her eyes. "What happened while I was in the infirmary?" she asked him in a quiet and serious tone.

He paused and put down his fork, staring at his food. He looked up into her eyes and she tilted her head to the side. "I –I told you last night that I was scared," he started. She nodded. "I barely left your side while you were there," he answered, taking a deep breath, "I…slept in the chair next to your bed almost every night. The only reason I wasn't there when you woke up was because I was on my first mission since you were attacked," he explained.

"Why?" she asked softly, a tender burning sensation smoldering in her chest.

"Why?" he shook his head, "Because I had to—"

"No, why did you stay with me?" she interrupted.

He licked his lips. "I don't know," he said, staring into her glittering emerald eyes. He shifted his hands on top of the table. She felt the breath catch in her lungs. "Emma, I care a lot about you and I – I think that I – "

She nearly leaped over the table, leaning over it to kiss him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as she did so. He was grinning widely when they pulled apart. "You like me," she teased quietly.

"Maybe," he shrugged.

The room's noise level suddenly dropped significantly. Emma sat back in her seat and noticed everyone was staring. Emma bit her bottom lip and giggled quietly, looking down at her plate as her face turned red. She peeked back up at a smirking Ronon, who reached across the table with his fork and took link of sausage from her plate for himself. "Hey!" she laughed, stealing a piece of fruit from him in retaliation.

"Watch it Rogers," he jokingly warned, also laughing.

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><p>"I don't get it," Sheppard deliberated, sitting with Col. Carter.<p>

"Don't get what?" she asked, sipping her coffee.

"Them," he said, gesturing with his chin to Ronon and Emma. They were both smiling, flirting, sometimes holding hands under the table.

Col. Carter smiled. "Opposites attract," she replied simply, "Beauty and the Beast. Something like that," she shrugged.

He nodded slowly, chewing.

Carter stared at them for a moment. "They're in love," she finally stated.

"What?" Sheppard spat out incredulously, returning his gaze to her, "How can you tell?" he challenged.

"With Emma…I can't explain it, I just know," she shook her head, "But as for Ronon," she looked at Sheppard, "have you ever seen him smile that much around anyone?" she asked, taking another sip of coffee.

Sheppard thought for a minute and finally surrendered. "No; I guess you're right."

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><p>For the last time, thank you EVERYONE who read and reviewed! Your reviews and following mean so much to me! :D Thanks!<p> 


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